


Time and Tribulations

by JeanneRiddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/M, Female John Watson, Genderbending, Inspired by Music, Magic, Magic Turns John into a Woman, Regency Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2018-12-21 16:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11948562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanneRiddle/pseuds/JeanneRiddle
Summary: John Watson always considered himself strong-willed and masculine. He finds himself miraculously transported into the past as a woman. He has to blend in with customs and civility in order to survive and, in the process, meets the handsome and wealthy bachelor, Sherlock Holmes.





	1. The Fog into the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a quest to end his life, John Watson leaves London to go to the borders of Scotland and England and is met with an unexpected surprise.

Somewhere along the moors where Scotland and England meet, the forests and fields are dusted with magic. Or so the legends go. Tales of people wandering through the trees and never being seen again. No trace of the missing persons, no corpses. Nothing but a whisper of their name on the wind. The locals suggested for centuries that it was the work of fairies. That when the moon was just right, and fog spilled over the moors, anyone caught wandering the uninhabited lands during a time when the moon was blue and the fog was golden with the light of a rising or setting sun would be taken to the land of the fairies for eternity.

Dozens of people had vanished over the years, and not one ever returned. It wasn't as if the moors hadn't been thoroughly searched either. There were rangers that had combed every inch of the forests, the fields, and the marshes and while they'd find a possession or two every once in a great while, there were never any hints as to where the items' owners had disappeared to.

It sounded like a bunch of superstitious lunacy to John. What did he care anyways? He just wanted a quiet place where he could kill himself. What did he have to live for? He was a washed up soldier with a psychosomatic limp, an intermittent tremor, and a scar on his shoulder that reminded him constantly of the exact moment his life had gone from great to total shit.

He had his handgun in the pocket of his wool coat as he wandered through the moor. It was early in the morning and a thick fog covered the fields and forests. Even if John had an intention of returning, he wasn't sure which way was the way he had come from anymore. He looked up at the sky. Despite the thick low clouds that surrounded him on all fronts, he could see the light of the moon. It wasn't as bright as usual, but instead had a vague, blue hue to it. He supposed it could just be from the distortion the fog brought, but a part of him that he had thought died on the battlefield, the more adventurous part of him desperately wanted to believe it was a blue moon. The more solemn side he had become intimately acquainted with in the last year couldn't help but agree that a blue moon would be pretty amazing. After all, the chance to shoot yourself during a blue moon only happens, well, once in a blue moon.

John sighed heavily as he came to the top of a hill, panting from the exertion. God, was he out of shape. Not that it had come as a surprise, he couldn't run worth a damn, and he'd been so busy fighting infections in his shoulder wound the past year that he hadn't had much time to keep in shape. He looked around and saw that a large holly tree stood in the middle of the hill with its branches spread out towards the skies proudly. It was fall so many of the trees had shed their brightly colored leaves in favor of a grimmer look, but yet, this tree stood with all of it's bright green leaves like it was a warm summers day.

He could think of no place better to die. The wind was rustling the branches, and other than the occasional sound of a leave flickering about the forest floor, it was quiet. He sat down at the base of the tree and closed his eyes as he leaned against the trunk, just admiring the silence for several minutes. Finally, his eyes opened again and he glanced at a golden hue in the fog as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

John dug the gun out of his pocket, checking to make sure that it was loaded before pressing it to his temple. The surge of emotions that struck him were odd. He never imagined that he would feel fear in the face of killing himself. His finger trembled as he brushed it over the trigger. He was so close and yet... He threw the gun down the hill, legs curling up against his chest as he began to cry. He was angry at himself. Why did he have to be such a coward. Why couldn't he just end it? What did he have left in the world?

Suddenly the breeze picked up and seemed to swirl around him, rustling the leaves on the holly tree and sending a chill down his spine. He could've sworn he heard the faintest resemblance of his name as the golden fog thickened and devoured him until he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. And then in an instant, it had cleared, leaving him staring at a warm sunrise. He looked around the land around him and felt nothing but pure confusion.

Even though a moment ago, all of the trees he had passed to get to where he was sitting except the holly tree had been bare, every tree was sporting blossoms and budding leaves. There were dewdrops sprinkled over the grass that covered the forest floor and John stood slowly, trying to get a view of any civilization. He hadn't wandered too far away. Only a thirty minute walk from where he had been staying the night before.

There were buildings but he didn't recognize them. They looked much newer than they had when he had arrived the evening before, but he supposed that that could've easily been his mind playing tricks on him or the simple fact that the place looked so different in the dark. Still, there seemed to be fewer buildings there than he remembered. He shrugged, trudging down the hill and looking for his gun. After about an hour of searching without any luck, he gave up looking for it. During his search, he had to adjust his trousers and pants several dozens of times. He figured that maybe he was just losing his mind or that he accidentally packed a pair of jeans that Harry had sent him. She never did get his waist size right. 

John walked back towards the town he had come from, shoes feeling strange and unfamiliar. He looked down at his feet and noticed how loose his shoes were on him. And then he took a moment to notice the two large lumps bulging from his chest in a shirt that definitely didn't fit him the way it should. He groped his chest curiously, thinking that his sleep deprivation had finally made him mad. Oddly enough, the breasts were there, he could feel the sensation of his hands gently squeezing them, the warmth of the flesh. His eyes widened as his trousers finally fell down and something that had been there a few minutes before was replaced by some less familiar genitals.

"What the fuck is this?!" John shouted in shock, hands going to his now prominent hips before feeling for the genitalia that was no longer there. Now he was panicking. What had happened in the last few minutes to change him so drastically? He couldn't go to town like this. No, he wouldn't. He pulled up his trousers and walked to the town, a blush creeping over his features.

When he reached the edge of the forest he halted, trying to think of the best way to look presentable. He was wearing a white tank top under his button up shirt and decided that that would probably be the most natural thing to wear since it was hanging to his mid thighs instead of his hips like it should. He stripped himself of everything except the tank top and continued walking into town. The looks he got from people weren't encouraging. What was with their clothes?

Everyone looked like the were from the regency era. Normally, they would be the odd ones, but with John so under dressed, he was definitely the odd one in this case. He ran off, trying to avoid people's cold and judgmental gazes as he escaped the small civilization. He found a stable and hid among the straw, trying to get his bearings.

He decided that it was all so strange festival he hadn't been made aware of. Some sort of regency celebration. The one thing he couldn't seem to explain was how he had become a woman. It made no sense, he didn't feel any different. He looked at his shoulder and sure enough the scar was still there. Then it occurred to him that he had just run through town. Come to think of it, he hadn't used his cane since he sat down next to that holly tree. Where was his cane?

The stable door swung open and all of the horses in the stable greeted the person walking in with the same raised heads and ears that he had been treated to when he entered. It was a young lady with mousy brown hair in a simple brown dress, humming as she took a pitchfork and pitched some hay to each of the horses. When she came across the pile of straw that John had taken refuge in, she let out a startled yelp, covering her mouth in surprise.

"Oh my!" She whispered, looking at the woman dressed only in undergarments. "I apologize for shouting. You startled me..." she looked away with a bright blush tinting her cheeks. "Don't you have any clothes..?"

John looked down at his apparel, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as well. "I don't..."

The young girl bit her lip. "Wait here a moment..." she murmured, walking back to the stable door and disappearing. After a few moments, the girl returned again with a gown and some proper undergarments that John couldn't even guess how to put on. "Here. I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing..."

John took the clothes with a nod of thanks, grabbing the stocking and putting them on first since he was sure where those went and how to wear them. Next came the bloomers which fit him much better than his trousers and pants had since his transformation.

"My name is Molly Hooper." the girl introduced quietly. "May I know your name?"

"J-... Jane Watson." John said carefully, wincing at the voice that left his lips that was unfamiliar to him. He was a woman right now, and what woman was named John? He took off his shirt and replaced it with a long white one that when down to his ankles. "It's nice to meet you, Molly... Thank you for letting me borrow your clothes..."

"Excuse me, Ms. Watson but we've hardly met. I am surprised at your whimsical addressing of my name." Molly said with a blush as John exposed his newfound chest to her. Allow me to help you with the corset..."

All of the air was suddenly pressed out of John as the strings of the fabric contraption were pulled taut. His hands went to his chest, trying to relax as Ms. Hooper continued to tighten the corset until she seemed satisfied with the appearance of the lady who had invaded her stables in nothing but a nightdress.

"If you pull this corset any tighter, you might crack my ribs, Ms. Hooper..." Jane warned, trying to get the technique of breathing in the suffocating garment down. After a moment, he got the hang of it. Molly then helped him with the overdress. It was a drab brown not different from the one that she was wearing. He found himself looking down at his figure and nodding another thank you to the girl who had decided to aid him.

"I realize this question may be indelicate, but I was wondering what it was you were doing in my father's stables?" Molly asked, examining the young blonde lady with unabashed curiosity. A flush covered John's face and he swallowed heavily.

"Well, I wasn't decent so I thought I would hide someplace until it got dark and I would sneak out and go home..." Ms. Watson explained, biting her lip.

"Where is your home, Ms. Watson? Surely you have people worried about you. I can send them a letter informing them of your well being." Molly suggested, turning towards the stable doors.

"London." Jane answered, following Molly out of the stables. "There's no one who would worry about me. I'm alone in this world..."

"An orphan? I'm very sorry to hear of the tragedies that have befallen you." Molly said sincerely. "I know that you have no money for a carriage to London. And nowhere to stay, you may stay with me in my room, if you like. My bed is big enough for the two of us. I'd feel terrible letting you go and wander about."

"Alright. I'll stay with you. I'm fine sleeping on the sofa though, no need to share your bed with me." John answered, smiling. "Do you get any good channels on the telly?"

"Ms. Watson, you do say the strangest things. What, pray tell, is a telly?" Molly asked and Jane's expression faltered.

"You know, a box with color full images? You watch the news on it?"

"I can't say I've ever heard of such a thing, Ms. Watson. The contraption does interest me though. You must tell me more of it at dinner."

Until this moment, John had never doubted that he was still on the countryside where England met Scotland. Well, he knew he was. The land hadn't changed drastically. But now he was unsure if someone was playing a vicious prank on him or not. Who the hell would have the money for something like this though? Was it really... magic? What time was he in if it was? He had so many questions and Ms. Hooper would surely laugh at him for each qualm that crossed his mind.

"Let me bother you with one more question, Ms. Hooper." He said finally as they walked up a path to a quaint home. "What year is this?"

Molly laughed. "What sort of a silly question is that? It's the year 1811."


	2. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries desperately to return to his time but all attempts prove futile.

_1811._ The numbers seemed to make John's head spin and his ears ring. 1811? That simply couldn't be right. But as he entered Ms. Hoopers humble abode it was starting to become a little easier to believe those numbers. He searched the room for any signs of modern technology as subtly as he could but there were no light switches or outlets. John ran his fingers over his scar absentmindedly, the dull pain from the pressure, coupled with the numbness, the only reminder of his grip on reality. This didn't feel like a dream. The corset definitely was real. That meant all of this, all though it seemed incredibly impossible, was real.

Molly had been chattering away about something and John had hardly been paying attention, too distracted by his predicament. But then she looked at him with some mild concern and he was brought back into the conversation with a nervous expression. Had she said something important?

"You look unwell, Ms. Watson. Are you sure you're not ill?" Molly asked, her hand going up to Jane's face in a motherly sort of way as she felt for his temperature. "Perhaps it was the shock of your travels?"

"I'm fine, Ms. Hooper. I think I was just in the stables for too long. I'm actually going to go for a walk. I think I could use some more fresh air." John decided, turning back to the door.

"Will you be able to find your way back alright?"

"God willing."

And with that the man trapped in a woman's body departed, finding traversing the quaint village much easier now that he was actually dressed, though the attire was strange. He made his way back through the forest, finding it a bit harder to find the mysterious holly tree now that there were leaves on all of the trees. There were plenty of hills and he wasn't sure which one had perched the tree that he had leaned on and he hadn't paid attention to what the leaves looked like.

He walked up a hill and looked over the valley as best he could. "Listen here, God, what the hell is the meaning of this shit, hmm? Is this punishment for taking my life for granted? Lesson learned. Change me back. I want to go home." he shouted to the silence of the forest, and silence was indeed all he received. John sat down on the forest floor, panic starting to overtake him. He wasn't going home.

It must've been quite a few hours before his return because when he left the canopy of leaves the sun had started it's descent in the sky. He found Molly's house with little trouble; there weren't that many buildings, after all. Once he was inside he found Molly by the fireside, cooking a stew, she turned to look at Jane with a pleasant smile.

"There you are. I was considering forming a search party to go find you." Ms. Hooper said, standing from her kneeling position and brushing the dust off of her apron. "The stew is almost ready. You must be quite famished."

"I am. Yes." John agreed, swallowing hard. "May I sit?"

"Please, go ahead and do so. Was your walk pleasant?"

"All things considered, yes."

They ate in a slightly strained silence and once he was out of his corset and laying next to a dozy Molly Hooper, he decided that he was going to try again in the morning. And he did. Before long the trees were all fully of bright green leaves and it had been nearly a month since he had found himself trapped in a time that was not his own. He had lost hope of ever returning home too. Staying with Molly had not proved to be as awkward as John had imagined it would be. While it was true that he was a man, though trapped in a woman's body, he found his opinion of Molly to be very platonic. She really reminded him of the sister he had always wanted in Harry but had never truly gotten.

While John had managed to avoid most people in the small town, he and Molly had agreed that it would be best if he met new people. Jane had mentioned to Molly that she would be staying indefinitely and that had prompted Molly to suggest that the blonde woman find some means of providing for their humble abode. Molly's work in her father's stable had provided for them well enough until now but there was only so much she could do on her meager salary.

The only trouble with the plan of finding an occupation was that John wasn't exactly sure what he could do that could help provide food on their table. Pointing out this important detail caused Molly to go into a recluse state of thought for well over two hours as she considered what options Jane had. She did not want to turn Jane out of her home, though an added boost to their income was greatly required. And Jane working in Molly's father's stable was not an option simply because the stable was not large enough to warrant two workers and her father was not well off enough to provide salary for two even if it had been.

Morning came swiftly enough and Molly had a somewhat vague solution as to what was to be done about the financial riddle.

"I think that I may be able to talk to a friend of mine and convince her to see if she can find you a job." Molly stated somewhat excitedly. Jane nodded as she took a small hunk of bread for breakfast.

"I would very much like to meet her and see if that is possible." Jane agreed, taking a bite of the bread.

"Then it is settled, you and I shall call upon Ms. Mary Morstan." Molly exclaimed, grinning. Her smile was not as strained as it had been since their financial misfortunes had began.

And call on Mary Morstan they did. They went to a small piece of land that had on its plot a home much more elegant than that of Molly's home or her parents'. John drank in the surroundings, eyes flickering over the lovely still-life paintings that adorned the walls. He was rather shocked with just how widely different Molly's life was in comparison to this "friend" of hers.

Mary came down dressed in a light pink dress, smiling sweetly and going to hug Molly. John couldn't help but think that she was very attractive, though he was very much aware that he wouldn't have a chance with her in his current form. Not that he could do much about his body anyways. He shoved down his attraction for her, reminding himself that in his time she's been long dead.

"Oh, my dear, Molly, it's been ages. What has kept you away?"

"I've been a little occupied helping my friend, Jane Watson, settle into town. She's living with me, though finances have become a problem." Mary turned her attention to Jane, looking her over with a friendly smile. She offered a hand to shake Jane's before turning back to Molly.

"Should I lend you some money?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. I could never ask that of you." Molly protested, a light blush coming to her cheeks at the question. Embarrassment, John decided. "Actually, I had hoped that you might have an idea as to where Jane could find some work."

"What skills do you have, Ms. Watson?"

"Well..." John began, trying his best to think of what skills he did actually possess. Of course there was his medical work but he very much doubted that his skills as a doctor would be accepted due to his body and the time period. Though, being part of the military had proven to be rather useful. "I can clean."

"You might try one of the estates. I believe that either Mr. Moriarty or Mr. Holmes would be quite pleased to have some extra hands around their households. Though, now that I think about it, Mr. Holmes is rather particular about who he hires and his younger brother lives on the property and I hear he can be quite a handful, something about a nasty temper. If I were you, I would try the Moriarty household to start with." Mary reasoned. She hummed softly, tapping her finger against her lip in thought. "I give you a boon, Ms. Watson. I happen to work in the Moriarty household as a cook. You can come with me to the estate and call upon Mr. Moriarty yourself if that suits you."

"Yes, that suits me very much. Thank you, Ms. Morstan." Jane agreed, actually excited at the prospect of being useful. "Thank you so much for your assistance."

"Of course, I couldn't let my dear Molly go into financial ruin. And any friend of hers can find equal friendship in me." Mary stated with a smile. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go dress in some work appropriate attire. My mother would have my head if I were to cook in this dress." and with that she retreated upstairs. In about fifteen minutes she returned downstairs again in a light grey dress.

"Molly, I'm going to take Ms. Watson to see Mr. Moriarty now. I would love to see you for dinner so that we may chat. I have only seen you in church this past month and it saddens me. We used to be attached at the hip."

"Alright. I'll come for dinner. I look forward to seeing you then. I should go to my own work now as well." Molly agreed, following the more elegant lady out of her house and heading off to her father's stable with a bright smile and a wave. Mary waved back and then she stepped into the carriage that was waiting outside her doorstep, ushering Jane inside after her.

They made the ride to the Moriarty estate in relative silence, occasionally Mary would ask a question and John would answer it to the best of his ability. Most of them were about John's or rather Jane's past. In the past month if felt like he had two different lives, and he actually did. There was depressed former army doctor, Captain John Hamish Watson, and there was orphan of no fortune or skill, Jane Watson. He wasn't sure which he preferred. Both existences seemed just as lonely. Yes, he had Molly here and he had Harry back in his time but friendship didn't seem to fill the void he had. He wasn't sure exactly what would fill that void, if he was at all honest with himself.

The ride took a long thirty minutes but finally they arrived at an elegant manor on some equally elegant grounds. John was amazed by the landscape and the architecture. They certainly didn't build houses like this anymore where he was from. He followed Mary in side, looking around at the expensive furniture and painted masterpieces that adorned every room they passed.

They entered a room where a young looking gentleman was sitting in a comfortable armchair, reading a book. As he glanced up from the pages, Mary curtsied and Jane copied her with a greatly noticeable lack of grace.

"Hello, Mr. Moriarty. I've very sorry to disturb you from your reading."

"Don't fret over it, Ms. Morstan, I was considering putting the book down and giving my eyes a rest before you interrupted anyways." Mr. Moriarty said with a smile, standing. He didn't appear to be that much taller than John was when he was in his normal body though in his form, John had determined he was a good three inches shorter.

"Mr. Moriarty, This is Ms. Jane Watson. She's looking for employment and I thought I would see if you could use a new maid. I'm told she's skilled in cleaning. I believe she would be an excellent addition to the staff."

Jim turned his attention to Jane, eyes pretty much devouring her. Jane shifted a bit uncomfortably under the man's gaze, suddenly understanding where Harry was coming from after all the time she had drunkenly ranted to him about guys checking her out. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Watson."

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Moriarty." Jane said politely through a painted smile.

"I agree with Ms. Morstan. I believe you will make a delightful addition to the household staff." Jim stated, sitting back down in his chair but not taking his gaze away from John. "You may start whenever you wish."

"I'd like to start immediately, if that is acceptable."

"It is. I like your determination." Jim flashed a smile. "Ms. Morstan will put you to work and I'll make sure that the rest of the staff can give you some more work tomorrow." 

John couldn't help but feel like this was the easiest job interview he had ever had though he wasn't sure if it was attributed to the era or the fact that Moriarty was attracted to him, well, her. Work was easy enough, most days he was washing dishes while Mary cooked and the two ladies got to be relatively good friends. Summer was almost to an end when something relatively exciting happened again.

Jane had been walking in the forest, which she returned to every few weeks or so to try her luck. She never lost her sense of hope that she might somehow return to her original time, but it was considerably dulled now and she was fairly certain that she wasn't going to be making as many walks through the trees when winter arrived. She had a satchel on her now most of the time, out of habit. There were many times when he called upon his skills as a surgeon but for something far less exciting than surgery: sewing. She had somehow been put in charge of repairing Moriarty's clothes when the need arose, and though she would rather avoid her rather flirtatious employer it was an impossible task when she was on his estate, except when she was washing dishes. For some reason, Mr. Moriarty couldn't be bothered to enter the kitchen, not that John minded.

There was a desperate cry of help from among the trees somewhere in the brush, the voice of a man.

"Is someone there? Please, I need some assistance!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	3. The Mr. Darcy Cliche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane, while exploring the woods in search of the tree that had somehow sent her into the past, discovers a man she dislikes more than the constant leering of her employer.

"Is someone there? Please, I need some assistance!"

The words sent a jolt of excitement through her. Finally, something exciting, she could tell by the urgency in his voice. Was he in danger? God, she'd give anything to fight off a wolf or something with a stick. Anything to break the tedium that came with manners and etiquette. Her feet were quickly moving on their own and she had no choice but to follow them as she tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. There were a couple thick shrubs in the way, but she pushed through the bramble and branches, and her dress got snagged and torn in the process.

To her disappointment, there was no wolf threatening the man calling out for help. Instead she was greeted with the sight of a man, dressed in relatively expensive looking clothes, clutching his ankle. That should've been the thing that captured in attention, but it was the tree he was sitting in front of that held her gaze. It was the tree. She was certain of it. The tree she had tried to take her life in front of all those months ago. It looked younger but there was no mistaking it.

"Oh, great. A woman. Not exactly what I was hoping for in a rescuer."

Jane's gaze locked onto the man who was scowling disapprovingly at her and she sent a glare to him in return.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't get offended. It's tedious."

"I... am not even sure how to respond to that. You do realize how incredibly lucky you are that there's even anyone out here at all?"

"Yes, I can tell you're going to be so much help." The man stated in a monotone voice, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "There's no way you can help me get back to civilization and it's going to take you ages to get back here with someone who could."

"I am stronger than I look."

"Not something I have ever heard a member of the fairer sex boast about."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like most women."

"I can tell. What are you doing wandering about the forest without some sort of escort?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You could, but that would be dull."

"And would it be dull if I just went back the way I came and left you here to fend for yourself?"

"As entertaining as I'm certain that would be, I'd rather you come back with someone."

"No reason to make some poor sod suffer your ghastly manners. You're fortunate that I'm the one who came across you."

"I highly doubt that. There's very little you could do to actually provide me with the assistance I require." Jane rolled her eyes at the man's remark, offering her hand to shake.

"Jane Watson." The man cautiously turned his gaze from the woman's face, down to the hand being offered to him. After a moment's contemplation, he decided to accept the hand shake, slowly reaching out to complete the gesture of greeting. 

"Sherlock Ho-Ah!" The moment Jane's small but slender fingers wrapped around Sherlock's hand she smirked, making a quick motion that resulted in a jolt of pain shooting up his arm. He grasped his wrist with his other hand, cradling the appendage close to his chest. "What was that? Did you just break my arm?!"

"No, of course not. That wouldn't help you at all. I merely sprained it. It will be fine in four to six days depending on how much you use it." Jane dismissed, batting her hand with a small chuckle. She lifted up her skirts a bit to adjust the multiple layers of fabric as she crouched down to examine his foot.

"What are you doing now?!"

"I'm going to examine your ankle. You know, to make sure it's not broken?" 

"How do I know that you're not going to do the same thing you just did?"

"You don't. You'll have to take a chance on me. Or I could just leave if that's what you'd prefer..." Jane said, standing up and dusting off her skirts as she turned on her heel, starting to trek down the hill.

"Wait." Jane paused and glanced over her shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Fine. Yes.. I will accept your assistance, I suppose."

"Was that so hard?" She asked with a smirk, sauntering back to Sherlock and kneeling down to examine the swollen ankle. "Lemme guess. You stumbled among the roots of the tree?"

Sherlock blushed with embarrassment and nodded, sighing softly. "Do you actually have any medical experience?"

"More than the most qualified doctor you could name." Jane assured, carefully removing the shoe and and then the sock to look at the skin and then to see if there was anything that was out of place. "I'm going to rotate it to make sure nothing's broken. Normally I'd offer for you to hold my hand but seeing as I'm going to need both hands, I'm going to offer you my leg. Give a squeeze if the pain's too much."

"I don't think it's going to be an is-oh... I suppose I could be wrong..." He gritted his teeth together and squeezed her ankle gently as she rotated his foot carefully. "What's the diagnosis?"

"It's merely sprained. Like your wrist it will be better in a couple days, maybe a week at most. The best suggestion I can make to help it along faster is to walk on it as much as possible."

"Now, I know you're lying about your credentials."

"I'm being completely sincere. If you don't believe me that's fine, however, you're going to have to help me get you home."

"My house is a good six miles away. It would probably be best to just take me to Reichenbach Manor since it's closest. Moriarty won't mind me visiting unannounced." Jane paused at that, looking up at Sherlock in shock.

"You know Mr. Moriarty?"

"Yes. Would you like me to introduce him to you when we get there." Jane's expression changed into a more gleeful one as she started to giggle. "I don't understand what you find so amusing." 

"I do not need an introduction to him seeing as I know him as my employer. The attention I receive from him is more than enough, I don't have the need to bring more to myself."

"You work for Moriarty? I didn't realize he required an amateur physician." 

"I am not an amateur, nor am I working for him as a physician."

"I can believe that. Your hands do not look like they're used for medical work."

"Not in a while, by any means. It was actually kind of nice to perform medicine again." Jane muttered, carefully putting on his sock again. She then picked up the edges of her petticoat and ripped off a strip of it approximately inch inches wide and began wrapping it firmly around his ankle. "This will help relieve some of the discomfort you'll feel when you walk." she explained as she tied it up and carefully returned his shoe to his foot.

"Where did you learn medicine, may I inquire? I cannot think of a single university that would be interested in educating a woman, never mind your violent tenancies."

"I'm not violent. I was merely teaching you to not judge a book by its cover. And you wouldn't believe me even if I told you." 

"You are a woman who knows medicine and works for Moriarty, I'm fairly certain I can handle more disbelief." 

"I learned at King's College in London." Jane stated, standing up and once again straightening out her dress before offering her hand to him. "I recommend putting all of your weight on your good foot when I pull you up." 

"You expect me to believe that you went to King's College?" Sherlock took her hand and she pulled him up as best she could. 

"I haven't been recently and I'm certain you wouldn't find documentation of my four year education there, but yes." She said, guiding his good arm over her shoulder and starting to guide him back to Reichenbach Manor.

"Well, now I know for certain it's a lie." Sherlock stated, and she reached over and pinched his side. "Ow. What was that for?"

"It's rude to accuse a lady of deception."

"And it's not rude to assault me with your fingers?"

"Oh, no, it is. But your manners are far worse than mine."

"You said earlier that you receive a lot of attention from Moriarty. Are you perhaps his new favorite maid? He's mentioned you several times throughout our correspondence but never by name."

"You've heard of me? Nothing bad I hope."

"Depends on what you consider bad. Are you interested in him?"

"What? As in am I attracted to him?"

"Are you?"

"Nope. He's far from being my type." 

"You say the strangest expressions, Ms. Watson." 

"I suppose I do, yeah."

Jane and Sherlock made the rest of their journey back to civilization in relative silence. Occasionally, Sherlock would ask something, and Jane would answer to the best of her ability, without revealing too much about herself or her past. Though their predicament changed drastically when the clouds opened up and it began to pour. Sherlock let out a remark about the autumn rain and grumbled the other half of his complaint. It took nearly an hour to get to Reichenbach Manor because of Sherlock's ankle but soon they were at the proud oak doors. Jane knocked politely and continued to support Sherlock, arm wrapped around his waist. They were both completely drenched from the onslaught of raindrops that had bombarded them on their unsavory adventure.

Mary had a shift today and was about to leave the estate when she heard the knock. She opened the door and gasped in surprise. 

"Jane! You're a mess and-" Mary's expression of shock only intensified when she caught sight of her companion. "Mr. Holmes! I'll go fetch my master right away." She quickly rushed towards the study.

"That is how a maid is supposed to act, though I guess it's no surprise that Moriarty favors you. He has always found stubbornness to be an attractive trait in a woman." Sherlock mused, limping inside and collapsing onto an armchair. Jane sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling up the top half of her dress to better cover her chest when she noticed how low it had gotten due to the weight of the water. 

"Sherlock! Welcome. My goodness, Ms. Morstan wasn't kidding when she said the two of you looked like you had been through a hurricane." 

"Holmes is fine, Moriarty." 

"Don't be like that, Sherlock. I'm going to let you borrow my clothes. I'm fairly certain we're at the point of using Christian names." It was only then that Jane realized that she'd heard the last name Holmes before. She froze, swallowing thickly, turning to look at Sherlock nervously. Holmes. That was the name that most of the village used when describing wealth or success. She quietly groaned to herself and face-palmed. She had probably screwed herself over. As if her situation could get any worse. "What happened to you?"

"I was looking for some mould to do experiments with and I happened to sprain my ankle." Sherlock muttered, glancing at Jane. "And consequently, my wrist as well." Jane found herself staring at him in disbelief. He was covering for her? That was unexpected, to say the least. Maybe he wasn't a complete prick after all.


	4. The Reichenbach Castrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock requests that Jane be put in charge of taking care of him during the duration of his stay at Reichenbach Manor while his ankle recovers. All seems well at first but Moriarty's jealousy soon erupts into something far more dangerous.

Jane thought for sure that the chaos of the day before would be the last time she'd ever see Sherlock Holmes, which had her feeling relieved. She didn't want to imagine the consequences if Holmes suddenly decided that he didn't want to cover for her anymore. For sure, she'd be fired, but beyond that she didn't know. She'd probably be sued into bankruptcy. That was something she needed to avoid if at all possible. Molly couldn't afford to support the both of them and things were finally starting to look up for the mousy brunette now that they were both employed, with Jane bringing in most of the income. She'd often treat her friend with a new dress and watch as Molly's eyes lit up with gratitude and she'd throw her arms around her in a joyful hug. Yeah. Molly was definitely the sister she'd always wanted.

Jane was making her way over to Reichenbach Manor for the day's work. She expected it to be quiet when she entered the estate. And at first it was. She was closing the door behind her gently when she heard a calm and collected voice behind her.

"Good morning, Ms. Watson." The blood in Jane's veins froze as she slowly turned to see the very man she thought she'd seen the last of, sitting calmly in an armchair, looking down at a book he had poised neatly in one hand. "The walk here was refreshing, I hope."

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes." Jane said politely. "Yes, it was very refreshing. Thank you for asking." Sherlock simply smirked and turned a page in the book. It was then that she noticed her employer sitting in the armchair across from the silently gloating Mr. Holmes.

"Ah, Jane. It's good to see that you're early. I always appreciate when an employee is punctual." _Jane, huh?_ she thought, feeling a little sick at the intimacy Moriarty was trying to instill. "Listen, your workload is going to be a little different for the next week until Sherlock goes back to his own estate. He's requested that you be the one charged with his care since he's most familiar with you out of the entirety of my staff."

Jane could only nod quietly, staring at Sherlock with confusion. "If you have time to do your other chores, that's fine to but if not, I can divide it up among the other girls."

"Of course, sir." Jane said, through clenched teeth as she saw Mr. Holmes continue to smirk. 

"No need to use such formality, Jane. You can call me Jim."

"Jim." Jane repeated, suddenly feeling the strong urge to either find a window to hurl herself out of or simply to just hurl. "Is that all?"

"Yes. I think that that covers everything I wanted to talk to you about." Jim said, closing his book and starting to make his way to his study. "If you need to find me, I shall be in my study."

It was quiet until Jim was completely out of earshot, and then Jane charged over to Holmes and glared. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Not at all. I think your service shall prove to be at the very least adequate and as he says you're the only member of his staff that I am familiar with. I thought it best to pick you rather than some dull, timid girl who would bore me to death. I find you to be at least a little interesting since I can't figure you out completely."

"What is there to figure out?"

"You tell me, Ms. Watson." Sherlock smirked as if he had just put her in checkmate.

"There's nothing to figure out."

"There's really no need to be so modest. I'm sure you're at least a puzzle worth trying to solve."

"Is that what I am? A puzzle? For a moment there I thought I was a human but I suppose that was just wishful thinking." Jane replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She sighed, shaking her head. "Is there anything I can get for you, Holmes?"

Again the corners of Sherlock's lips twisted upwards in a small smirk and she had to fight not punching him. "Now that you mention it, I would like some assistance moving up to the balcony on the second floor. This room is fine, I suppose, but a little dark for reading. I was merely indulging Moriarty."

Jane sighed, crouching down to wrap his arm around her shoulder and help him up to a standing position. They made their journey to the balcony in silence and once they arrived, Holmes got comfortable on one of the many cushions found there and gestured to another one.

"Sit."

"You want me to sit here with you?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"Don't you hate me?"

"Don't be daft. If I hated you, why would I request that you be put in charge of my care?"

"So then, you like me?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that, no." Sherlock muttered, opening his book and returning to the page he'd left off on. There was silence for a few minutes, with the exception of a few page turns and the light breeze rustling the red and gold leaves that were still on the trees.

"Why did you cover for me?"

"You saved my life. I was merely returning the favor. I don't like owing anyone. I much rather prefer when people owe me. But we're even now, so I suppose that's that." Sherlock asked, shaking his head. "Since you have medical experience, is it wrong to assume that you have the ability to read?"

"No, I can read." Jane defended, crossing her arms. "Why?"

"Well, if it would make you feel more productive, you can certainly move your cushion next to mine and read with me." Sherlock muttered, not looking up from his book. Jane was about to start laughing but then she realized he was being serious. She sighed softly and moved her cushion next to his, glancing over at the pages. It was nice to feel a little less useless. 

They spent several hours like that, since there wasn't much care a man with only a couple sprains had to receive, in fact, she found it a bit redundant that she was even there to begin with. After a while, Jane fidgeted slightly. 

"You've obviously got something you want to say." Sherlock muttered, still not looking up from his pages.

"Well, it's just... I should be working."

"What work would you be doing if you weren't here?"

"Honestly? The dishes."

"You would rather be doing the dishes than reading with me?"

"I didn't say that. I just don't feel particularly productive, and, well, I am a maid." Sherlock set the book down and stared at her with his intense eyes that seemed to shine a thousand different colors. She bit her lip and she gained the courage to continue. "I would invite you to join me in the kitchen but Moriarty can't be bothered to go in there. I doubt you would feel any differently on the subject."

"I suppose it would surprise you to know that I do, in fact, feel differently on the matter. I am not at all opposed to joining you in the kitchen, just as long as you don't expect me to work."

"There won't be a place for you to sit."

"I suppose I'll have to make due then, won't I?"

"You're sure? I thought you'd want to rest that ankle."

"Who's the one who told me I should be exercising it more in the first place?"

"That would be me." Jane muttered with a small blush as Sherlock used her own argument against her. She stood up and offered her hand to Sherlock to help him up. He gladly accepted, carefully getting to his feet and allowing her to help support him when he needed it.

So how did you come to get a job as a maid here rather than a physician?"

"Well, I was sure no one would take me seriously as a physician. And at the time I was an acquaintance of the cook here, so she recommended me and I got the job. Cleaning is something that anyone can do, but I have a lot of experience with it so it was what I was settled with." she explained at the walked down to the kitchens. Once they were there, she allowed Sherlock to find a place he was relatively comfortable as she started her work on the numerous dishes on the counter. He chose to be relatively close to her, watching as she worked with intrigue.

"Moriarty's interested in you, and you are not with him. Does that make you feel uncomfortable working for him?"

"Sexual harassment is common in any profession, even if I did go somewhere else, I'd probably still have to deal with a man I'm not interested in wanting more than and employer/employee relationship." Sherlock didn't know what to say to that so he simply stood quietly next to her, watching her work.

That was how many of their days together went. They would start off by reading on the balcony, as long as the weather was amiable, and then Jane would guide him to the kitchen so she could still do some housework. Sherlock would ask whatever questions game to his mind and Jane would answer them to the best of her ability, often avoiding questions that had to do with her past before coming here to this time. Every once in a while, Jane would also become curious of the man she was charged with and ask questions about him as well. They seemed an unlikely pair of acquaintances that got along surprisingly well. That being said, in the mornings, Moriarty had taken to joining them on the balcony, obviously bitter about all the time Sherlock was getting with his favorite maid.

One day during the week, Sherlock did something unexpected and asked Jane to accompany him to the village market. She had to pick her jaw up off the floor.

"You want me to go to the market with you?"

"I don't think it's that unreasonable. Yes, I'm walking better, but it's still not a journey I would be comfortable making by myself." Sherlock reasoned, gently rubbing the wrist that Jane had sprained. It was a subtle thing he had started doing when he thought she needed more persuasion. She knew exactly what he was doing, and yet she couldn't find it in her to refuse most of the things he asked of her. Besides a day at the market sounded refreshing since it meant there was not going to be Moriarty anywhere near them.

"Alright. I was just surprised." Jane admitted, chuckling.

"Why were you surprised? I don't consider you to be a nuisance, which is admittedly the closest thing I've ever come to giving anyone a compliment." At that Jane started snickering a bit and it only took a few seconds for Sherlock to join in.

"Shall we get going?" Jane suggested, and they made they're way to the market place at their own pace. Sherlock had to rest his ankle every now and then. It had only been three days since it was sprained and while he was doing much better at moving around on his own, it still wasn't completely healed yet. So when they needed to rest, they would sit on the side of the road in the grass and read the book that Sherlock had brought along for a bit.

Finally, they made it to the market place. Jane was expecting that Sherlock was going to browse one of the shops or stalls but instead he merely sat on a bench and watched people as they went by. Jane found it peculiar and she sat down next to him, watching the people for a few minutes before her curiosity became too much for her to bare.

"What are you doing?"

"Observing." Sherlock answered simply, doing as he usually did when he was only half engaged in a conversation and keeping his gaze focused on whatever it had been focused on before the conversation had stated.

"Ah. I see." Jane was quiet for another minute before another question flowed from her lips. "Observing what, exactly?"

"People, obviously." he muttered with a sigh. "I may find conversation to be lacking in all regards and people to be an annoying inconvenience but from a distance, people are fascinating. If I could go through my life, observing, never having to be seen to spoken to, I think I would like that. They all lead such intricate lives. They all have something that's important to them. Perhaps that's the reason I find them so painfully irritating when approached with conversation. They all have something to look forward to, some goal, or something they treasure. I don't have anything like that. I was born into enormous fortune and as such, I've never wanted for anything, I've never truly valued anything I have because it was something I was naturally entitled to. I am without ambition, without compassion, or tribulation. It's easy for me to close everyone out.

Jane stared at him quietly, surprised that he was opening up to her like this. "So you like people, but you feel like you're not one of them?" Sherlock nodded and she merely considered this man for a while. "When I first met you, I thought you were a real prat."

"The feeling is mutual." Jane scrunched up her nose and playfully punched his arm.

"I was going to say something meaningful, but I suppose the moment's gone now. Thanks for that." Sherlock merely chuckled and they sat there quietly a while longer.

"You see that man over there with the light blue cravat?" Sherlock finally broke the comfortable silence between them.

"Yeah. I see him."

"He's a banker, probably from London. He's got a wife that owns two cats and a small dog."

"You know him?"

"Not at all, I've never met the man in my life."

"So you're making up stories about him to try to impress me?"

"What would I gain from impressing you?"

"What indeed?"

"I did not make up any of those details about that man."

"How can you be so sure of yourself?"

"First of all, look at the detailing of the cravat. It's embroidered with darker blue. Cravats like that tend to be expensive, and unless it was a gift, most people wouldn't be able to afford such a thing. But it's not a gift. How do I know? Because the rest of his ensemble was tailored to match that particular cravat. The edges of his sleeves are embroidered with the same design. Not only that, but it's a small village, he'd have no reason to dress so expensively unless all of his wardrobe looks similar. Now, banker, how did I pinpoint that when there are plenty of other professions that make a fortune enough to afford such an outfit? Easy. The way he carries his money is a give away. Most men, when going to a market like this would simply carry their coins in a pouch on their belt, but this man keeps his pouch, with an intricate fastening, in his jacket; an obvious sign that he is used to treating money with the utmost professional care. Deducing that he's married is by far one of the simpler tasks. The wedding band on his finger speaks volumes as to his eligibility. And the cats? There's a collection of long, white hairs on the back of his jacket, most likely from a Persian. As well as short orange hairs, suggesting a tabby cat. 'Why cats though, it could just as easily be dogs,' I can practically hear you thinking. Well, back to this man's profession, he's a banker. There's no way he keeps his clothes laying about on the floor and a man of his stature probably wouldn't allow the dog on the furniture. Cats are much harder to control in that regard. It is quite probable that the cats decided to take a nap on his jacket if he left it sitting on a table or the bed. Finally the dog. That one's a little bit trickier. When he was walking past us, I noticed that he had short white hairs on his lower pant legs but not the upper ones. These hairs obviously don't belong to either of the cats since one is long haired with a white coat and the other is short haired with a ginger coat. Add to that the fact that there are no other short white hairs on his ensemble, we can assume that it's a creature that's not as agile as a cat. Since the fur never goes too high up his shin, it must be short in stature, therefor a small dog. Anything I forgot to address?"

"Wow."

"Wow? What on earth does 'wow' mean?"

"Wow. A term of amazement when you can't think of anything else to say because you are stunned with awe. I keep forgetting that it hasn't caught on yet."

"You do say the strangest things..." Sherlock mused, the corners of his mouth turning up in a subtle smile. "Still, it's refreshing to hear you say that. That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?

"My mother would have my head if I used expletives in front of a woman..."

Jane giggled and after a moment or so, Sherlock joined in.

It was Sherlock's last day at Reichenbach Manor, since he was fully healed, and they were in the kitchen as they usually were in the afternoon. Sherlock was sitting on a stool he had found in the attic reading while Jane attended to the pile of dishes that needed to be washed. Mostly, the reason Sherlock still accompanied her into the kitchens was because she was one of the few people that actually enjoyed his company, and he would be lying if he said the feeling wasn't mutual, but he would also avoid the subject if asked about it.

The companionship came with a comfortable silence as they both continued to focus on what they were doing. Sherlock had a habit of being enthralled by whatever had his focus, and often it was very difficult to get his attention if he had been reading quietly for a while, which had been the case. One of the maids had been boiling a pot of water for Moriarty's bath, and despite Sherlock's presence in the afternoon being a nearly constant thing, she was unaware that he was there as she walked backwards with the pot of scalding water. Jane glanced behind her just in time to see the maid heading unwittingly towards Sherlock. There was no time to stop her, so she simply jumped in front of Sherlock, determined to take the damage he wasn't even aware he was about to receive. The maid had turned around just in time to collide with Jane, sending the hot water splashing all over her and missing Sherlock and the unsuspecting maid completely. Jane let out a small cry of pain, clenching her firsts to endure it all.

"God, fucking dammit..."

"Jane?" Sherlock looked up, concern filling his eyes. It was the first time he had called her by her first name. Mary came in and saw just in time that Jane had fallen back into Sherlock's arms from the pain.

"Jane! Oh, my goodness!" She rushed over to her side. Jane looked up at Mary and brought her closer.

"I'm going to need some lavender and some cool water." Jane said weakly. Mary, sprung in to action, starting to gather cool water and lavender from around the kitchen.

"What happened?" Mary asked urgently as she offered the requested things to Jane.

"I accidentally spilled Mr. Moriarty's hot bath water. I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention." the maid said pitifully. Sherlock shot her a glare.

"Follow me. This isn't the place to treat a burn, especially if it's under the clothing as well." He said dutifully, picking her up carefully and carrying her up to his room. Moriarty saw the commotion since his study was on the way to Sherlock's room and got up and began to follow them.

"What happened?!"

"Ms. Watson got burnt with hot water." Sherlock answered, setting her down on his bed. Mary started applying some cool water to the burns. That were already revealed.

"Here. I'll help apply the lavender." Moriarty offered, taking one of the sprigs and crushing it with his hands until it was somewhat paste-like. He started rubbing his hands over the burns, sneaking peeks down her dress and brushing his fingers as close to the edge of the fabric as he could manage. Sherlock noticed immediately what Moriarty was up to and he glared at him slightly.

"Moriarty, can I speak to you outside while Ms. Morstan makes sure that there are no burns on Ms. Watson that we can't see while she is decent?" He said pointedly, standing by the door and offering that the shorter man exit first. Moriarty sighed, stepping out of the room and glaring at Sherlock.

"What is it, Sherlock?" Moriarty asked coolly.

"You shouldn't be fondling Ms. Watson as you try and help her." Sherlock said strictly. Jim only chuckled.

"Why not? She's my maid, after all. I do actually plan on marrying her."

"Something tells me she wouldn't agree to that proposal."

"Why is that?" Sherlock was quiet for a moment as he considered his options. What would be most effective to get him to stop molesting her in the future?

"Because she's agreed to marry me." He answered calmly.

"What?!" Jim shouted, eyes going dark. "Very well, Holmes. If that's how you want to play it. I'd like to challenge you to a duel. Tomorrow morning. If you win, I'll leave Jane alone, but if I win, I'll ask her if she'd rather marry me."

"I will see you tomorrow morning." Sherlock said harshly before making his way to the balcony, since it was so close to his room, and looking out over the estate in thought.


	5. Duel at Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Moriarty prepare for their duel and in the mix of the tense atmosphere some rather unexpected confessions are made.

Sherlock spent the duration of the time Mary took care of Jane pacing back and forth between his bedroom door and the balcony, occasionally stopping at the railing to gaze out over the estate with tense shoulders. What had he done? He could hardly believe he had lied to Moriarty about something as serious as an engagement, let alone his own. Jane was a headstrong woman and he very much doubted that she would be forgiving of his fib. Jane was admittedly the closest thing he had ever had to a friend outside of his sister and he had probably just lost her due to a instinctive lie to protect her honor. 

The sun was very low on the horizon when he finally heard the door to his bedroom open behind him and turned on heel to see Mary stepping out into the hall, glancing at him expectantly. 

"How is she?" he asked, concern flooding his eyes. It didn't matter if Jane didn't want to see him again after this, as long as she was alright. That thought startled him a bit and a shocked expression reached his face at the revelation but he was quick to paint his normal facade back onto his features.

"She's doing better now. Most of the blisters are gone. She says it's due to the lavender which she has been applying generously every twenty minutes or so. It's rather remarkable, actually." Mary murmured thoughtfully. She paused, shaking her head as if to dislodge her distracted thoughts from her mind. "Oh, I wanted to thank you for defending Jane from Moriarty like that. Most people probably would've just let it continue and it wasn't really my place to... correct... his behavior." 

"I was just doing the decent thing, Miss Morstan." Mary's brow furrowed.

"You know my name?" She asked questioningly glancing up at him.

"I have spent the duration of the last week with you and Miss Watson in the kitchen. It would b e a shame if I hadn't paid attention." Sherlock said rather dismissively. He glanced back at the door. "May I see her?"

"I don't see why not. She's your fiance after all." Mary said with a smirk and Sherlock visibly winced. 

"You heard the conversation between myself and Moriarty." He stated rather than asked.

"Jane did not." Mary replied as if sensing the questions he was too nervous to ask. "I would recommend approaching her about it though seeing as you will be dueling Mr. Moriarty tomorrow. I think it would be best if she heard it all from you."

"I... don't know what I would even say in this situation..." Sherlock admitted dejectedly.

"Well, it's not my place, but if I were you, I would start with the truth." Mary murmured. "Though, no matter the outcome of the duel, if Jane rejects Moriarty's proposal, you do realize that he'll expect you to actually marry her, don't you?"

Sherlock choked on the air he had been inhaling and stared at Mary with a wide-eyed terror evident on his face. He had not considered the consequences of making such a bet but now that they were laid out in front of him so obviously, he was certain that Jane was going to hate him for his fib, maybe even do something worse than sprain his arm. He rubbed his wrist gently, remembering the sensation of pain she had so easily delivered to him. He sighed softly, shoulders straightening as he knocked on the door.

"Miss Watson, are you decent?"

"Yes." Jane called from the bed, covering up her burns with a shawl that Mary had leant her. Her dress was much looser on her now and her bodice underneath her ensemble had been removed completely so that they could have better access to the burns that were now already on a speedy track to recovery. 

Sherlock stepped into the room, guilt flooding through him as he glanced at the woman laying on his bed. He eyed the bodice ladying on the floor and blushed at the sight of her undergarment, swallowing thickly. "This is the second time you've saved me this month, Miss Watson, I do believe you're making a habit of it." he teased half-heartedly, mind obviously distracted.

"You look like a puppy who just got caught eating its master's shoe. Don't tell me you feel guilty for me stepping in to protect you." Sherlock simply sat at the edge of the armchair next to his bed, avoiding Jane's gentle gaze. "Oh my god, you do feel guilty about it."

"If I had been more aware of the world around me, the incident could've been avoided altogether. You wouldn't have gotten injured." 

"Mr. Holmes, I really don't blame you for being focused. I wouldn't have saved you if I didn't want to." She reached out and touched his hand in a reassuring manner. Sherlock met her gaze finally. 

"I'm just relieved that you're alright." Jane chuckled softly, pinching the top of his hand in a playful manner.

"I'm stronger than you think."

"I believe you've stated that before." Sherlock finally relaxed slightly and chuckled too. "I have to admit, I never thought I would hear you curse like that. I wasn't even aware a lady could know such expletives." 

"Oh, there are plenty more in my vocabulary. Besides, I'm not a lady, just a maid." Jane shrugged, wincing and rubbing her left shoulder. The scar from her past had been sensitive since she had gotten burnt. 

"The burns hurt?" Sherlock asked, obviously concerned. It was funny, actually. Jane couldn't recall a time that she had seen Sherlock concerned for anything.

"No, actually, the burns are fine. Well, as fine as they can be." Sherlock nodded, considering something. 

"I know you consider yourself to be 'just a maid,' but that may be subject to change soon..."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock swallowed thickly at the question, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. 

"I may have had a minor lapse in judgement..."

"That doesn't explain as much as you think it does." Sherlock took a deep breath, biting his lip.

"I may have told Moriarty that we were engaged." 

"What?! Holmes, what motive would you have to do such a thing?!" Jane asked, almost springing out of bed. Sherlock soothed her back into her spot.

"Allow me to explain." he pleaded, blushing brightly. "Moriarty was... I don't want to say molesting you, but that was exactly what he was doing. I confronted him about it and he stated that he planned on marrying you. I know your disdain towards the man so in an attempt to get him to stop pursuing you, I lied."

"What else, Holmes?" Jane asked sternly.

"He challenged me to a duel for the opportunity to ask your hand in marriage."

"And?"

"And... I accepted..." 

"Holmes!" Jane cried, throwing a pillow at his head. He accepted the assault completely, feeling he deserved quite a bit more than a pillow in his face. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, admittedly. I just... did not wish to witness that horrific display of his disregard for your opinions." Jane sighed softly, biting her lip.

"When is the duel?"

"Well..."

"Holmes!"

"Tomorrow morning..." 

"Bloody hell, you are an idiot." 

"Excuse me?"

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Well..." Sherlock hesitated once again and when he saw Jane open her mouth to once again pull information from him he explained quickly. "If either of us win the duel, assuming Moriarty wins and you reject him, he will be expecting us to marry..."

"Jesus christ..." Jane ran her fingers through her hair and stared up at the ceiling.

"I understand that you are aggravated with me. I apologize for my hasty decisions they were wrong of me."

"It's fine, Holmes." 

"There's no way I can make it up to y- what?"

"I said that it's fine." 

"That was not the reaction I was expecting."

"Is this a mutually beneficial situation?" Jane asked, looking at him. Sherlock stared at her in disbelief.

"I suppose it would spare me from having to marry a woman I do not find interesting for my mother's sake."

"I could do worse than a wealthy bachelor with an affinity for people watching." 

"I happen to think that my mother would like you." Sherlock admitted, visibly relaxing. 

"An orphan of no fortune who works as a scullery maid? Yes, I'm sure she'll adore me." Jane said sarcastically. 

"A well-educated woman who has shown herself to be ambitious, brave, compassionate, and forgiving." Sherlock corrected, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her. She looked back with surprise. 

"Wow." 

"I suppose that could be another word to describe the enigma that is you, Miss Watson." Affection actually reached his eyes and he straightened out his jacket as he stood. "Please stay in my room for the night. I can sleep in the foyer in an armchair."

"Like hell, you will. You'll be stiff for the duel." 

"What would you propose?" Jane hesitated a moment, thinking. 

"This bed is big enough for two..." 

"Miss Watson!" Sherlock exclaimed, voice cracking. Pink returned to his cheeks. 

"Oh, come on. It's not that outrageous. After all, we're fiances, and not only that, but we don't even have to touch. I'll even sleep on top of the covers so no one has grounds to be accusatory."

"It's cold. That would be unfair to you."

"Huh. Who would've thought Sherlock Holmes would care about my honor and my wellbeing." Jane murmured thoughtfully, scooting over and patting the spot on the bed beside her. Sherlock sheepishly took off his shoes and climbed under the covers with her, laying as close to the edge as he could to give her plenty of space.

"I... thank you, Miss Watson. Sleep well..."

"You too, Holmes." Jane murmured, crushing another sprig of lavender and applying it to her burns before getting comfortable and falling asleep. It took Sherlock a few moments more to finally relax enough to sleep. He glanced over at Jane, eyebrow quirking upwards as he considered her a moment. Her reaction to the news was not at all what he had expected. She handled it with grace and poise and rather embraced an idea.

The thought of marriage had always daunted him until now, but considering marrying Jane, he realized why. Marriage to a normal woman would be monotonous and tedious. He would have to listen to his prospective wife go on about subjects that he had no interest in, like clothing or some other nonsense. And while he supposed that was still a possibility with Jane, he had come to the conclusion that almost every conversation they had had together, whether mundane or not, he hadn't been bored. Still, he couldn't imagine they would be terribly close after the wedding. Jane would still want her freedom and Sherlock would still wish for his space. But that didn't change how mutually beneficial it would be for the both of them, as Jane had pointed out. He'd be free from the torture of a mundane marriage, and she would be free of Moriarty's advances as well as have her future well insured with his wealth. He fell asleep comfortably at the thought that Jane wasn't angered by his rashness and comforted by her presence.

The next morning, Sherlock awoke to a fully dressed Jane gently prodding him awake. 

"Miss Watson..." Sherlock groaned, burying his face into his pillow with a heavy sigh.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey." Jane cooed with a giant smirk, fingers shifting to prod at his ribs. Sherlock shot up out of bed quickly, glaring at her. She giggled. "Ha! Tickle spot!"

"None of what you just said made any resemblance of sense to me." Sherlock grumbled, putting on his boots and rubbing his ribs protectively.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot those aren't things yet." Sherlock stared at her quizzically before stretching his arms in attempt to loosen his shoulders.

"You really do say the strangest things, Miss Watson." 

"Oh! I brought you breakfast." 

"I'll have it after the duel, digesting slows me down." Sherlock dismissed, rubbing his eyes as he continued to wake up. Jane watched him curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"Not a morning person?"

"Not particularly." 

"Want me to help wake you up?"

"What could you possibly d-ah!" Sherlock jumped in surprise as Jane grabbed his butt before leaving the room. "Miss Watson!"

"Yes, honey?" Jane peeked back through the door, batting her eyelashes.

"What possessed you to do that?" Sherlock asked, blushing furiously, not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that she had just been so inappropriate with him. 

"Hmm... Revenge." Jane murmured, heading down to the garden so she could watch the duel.

It was fifteen minutes after Sherlock had arrived down in the garden before Moriarty finally showed up, dressed in a white shirt, black trousers, and a cocky smirk.

"Hello, Jane. Has Sherlock made you aware of the stakes of this duel?"

"He has." Jane gritted her teeth, looking about ready to tackle the pompous bastard. Sherlock silently blocked her, glancing back over his shoulder with a soft expression to assure her that it would be alright.

"Well, then let's get this over with. I'm quite looking forward to hearing your answer." Jane felt the need to hurl as he leered at her before turning to stand where the duel was to take place, taking the sword that was offered to him. Sherlock joined him, taking his a sword for himself. 

A man with salt and pepper hair was standing between the two of them and Jane took a moment to take in her surroundings. Every member of staff was watching the two men eagerly but they turned their attention to the man between them as he explained the rules.

"This is not a fight to the death, gentlemen, so avoid fatal wounds if at all possible. Any yielding is a forfeit of the duel and the winner will be determined by me." Mary inched her way over to Jane while they listened, patting her shoulder encouragingly.

The two men bowed to one another, swords slicing in the air as they each took three steps before turning around and staring at one another.

"Begin!" exclaimed the salt-and-pepper man and the two men clashed so quickly it looked like lightning. Sherlock was on the defensive as Moriarty continuously tried to land a blow, Sherlock parrying each time. Finally, Sherlock decided to feint and it caused Moriarty to jump back in avoidance of the blow that never came. Now, it was Sherlock who was on the offensive, backing Moriarty up into a tree. Sherlock was able to land a clean slice on Moriarty's cheek but it only seemed to aggravate the shorter brunette. Moriarty kicked some of the dirt he was standing on up towards Sherlock's face and stunned him, lunging ferociously towards his opponent. 

Sherlock coughed as he cleared the dirt from his eyes with his free hand, straining to seeing every blow that Moriarty tried to deliver. His eyes stung from the debris and he groaned softly. Moriarty feinted and Sherlock went to block, leaving his left side completely open. With a quick motion, Moriarty's sword connected with Sherlock's arm and Jane's voice screamed out in terror.

"Holmes!"


	6. A Marriage to A Fine Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really going to do chapter summaries anymore because they take time to come up with Netflix-esque cliff notes when you're going to be reading the chapter anyways. So enjoy.  
> Chapter Warning: Sexual Harassment. If you're easily bothered by it, please skip to the spot past the horizontal line.

"Halt! Moriarty wins." The man mediating the duel shouted, rushing between them to stop any further swings that might happen.

Jane switched into doctor mode the moment she saw blood stain the sleeve of Sherlock's white shirt.

"Mary, I need you to bring plenty of clean cloths, some alcohol - more like whiskey, not wine- bandages, and a pair of scissors to Mr. Holmes room. Now." Jane instructed, lifting up the first layer of her skirt and ripping off a strip of fabric before rushing her way over to the wounded man. "Are you alright? And by that I mean, besides bleeding from your arm."

"Jane... I'm - I'm so sorry that I lost the duel." Sherlock murmured, wincing as Jane wrapped the strip of ripped fabric around his wound. 

"You think that's what I care about? This could've been much worse, you absolute moron." Jane growled at him before sighing heavily. "If you weren't injured already, I'd smack you." 

"Holmes, are you alright? I thought you when you asked me to mediate this duel that you were confident in your victory." The man murmured, coming up to the two of them with a concerned frown.

"Ms. Watson, this is Mr. Gregory Lestrade." Sherlock murmured faintly, nearly falling over. Jane caught him, cupping his cheek and making him look at her. 

"Stay with me, Holmes. I need you to remain conscious." Jane murmured, trying to maintain eye contact with him.

"I'm with you... I just need to sit down or something..." Sherlock assured, swallowing thickly.

"Alright. Can you walk to your room if Mr. Lestrade and I help you there? I need to get that arm of yours stitched up." 

"You're going to 'stitch me up?'" Sherlock asked, nervousness showing on his face.

"I think I've more than proved my medical expertise." Jane said crossly, gently supporting his injured side. "Mr. Lestrade, please support his other side."

"Of course, Ms. Watson."

"You're obviously good with sprains and burns but this is surgery." Sherlock defended.

"Well, you're in luck because you've got the best surgeon in the whole of the world guiding you to your bedroom right now." Jane said flatly, starting to guide him along.

"You two bicker as if you're married." Greg commented with a small amount of awe.

"Ironic. Since we'll be married soon." Jane mused.

"You still want to marry me?" Sherlock asked, stopping to stare at Jane in disbelief.

"Well, I'm sure as hell not marrying Moriarty." Jane assured, gently rubbing Sherlock's shoulder, far from the wound. "We'll talk about it more after we put you back together."

Jane set Sherlock on the bed carefully with Greg's assistance, pulling up a chair to his wounded side. Mary came in just in time with an armful of the supplied that Jane had requested.

"I'm sorry I took so long. Moriarty keeps his whiskey under locks, as it is, we should never tell him that we're using this to sanitize Mr. Holmes wound." Mary muttered, setting the supplies on a table next to Jane. 

"I'm sorry to kick you two out but I'm going to need quiet so that I can do this." Jane explained, pulling out a needle and thread from the pouch on her belt. Greg and Mary nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door.

"You aren't showing any disturbance to the sight of blood..." Sherlock observed with raised eyebrows.

"I bleed for almost a week once a month. You can't be that surprised by my inclination against being squeamish." Jane counted, rolling her eyes. "This is going to hurt. A lot."

"Just stitch me up, Dr. Watson." Sherlock murmured, watching her with fascination as she quickly organized the supplies she had requested. 

"It's been a long time since someone's called me that." Jane reveled in the title. She had no idea how much she had missed being a doctor until now. "You're going to want to bite down on this." 

Jane handed him one of the fresh pieces of cloth Mary had brought her. Sherlock took it with his free hand sticking it in his mouth as he had been ordered. Jane prepared another cloth to be grabbed quickly and removed her shoddy attempt at a temporary bandage. She put the cloth on his wound and applied pressure.

"Hold this in place. Keep the pressure." Jane instructed and Sherlock, with a wince, did as was asked of him. She carefully ripped his shirt away from the wound, pouring a little whiskey on a fresh cloth. "What I would give for an analgesic for you right now."

She applied the whiskey soaked cloth to his wound and he let out a groan of pain. She grabbed some thread and thread it through the needle before dipping it and the string in the whiskey. She tied the knot and started to work carefully on Sherlock's wound, patching him up, stitch by stitch. After she finished the final stitch, she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Sherlock removed the cloth from his mouth and grabbed the whiskey to down half of what was left in the bottle.

"That was awful." he groaned, looking down at the wound with surprise. "That being said, I don't think I've ever seen stitches like this and so straight." he admired as she gently dabbed it clean with a fresh cloth with dipped in a mixture of water and whiskey.

"I'm impressed that you stuck through it. I recommend favoring that arm until it's a little more healed." Jane murmured, biting her lip. "Thank you for dueling for me. I appreciate it, even if I'm still going to have to turn down Moriarty's advances. Nobody's ever done anything like that for me before."

"Fighting for you was my pleasure. The aftermath was not particularly enjoyable, but I would do it again if it meant that you wouldn't have to experience unwanted advances." 

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. That's incredibly honorable of you... I think you should get some rest. You've had a rough morning, and your body could use a chance to recover."

"I will take your advice, Dr. Watson." Sherlock murmured, carefully shifting to lay down. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Holmes. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." Jane teased, getting up and leaving the room and closing the door.

"How is he?" Greg asked, Mary also perking up to look at Jane.

"He's resting. He's going to be fine. The chances of it getting infected are low but I will continue to make sure that it doesn't." Jane assured, leaning against the door and brushing her bangs out of her face with the back of her wrist.

"Oh, thank goodness." Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "I know you must be tired after taking care of him, but Mr. Moriarty wanted to see you as soon as possible."

"Well, no time like the present." Jane muttered with a heavy sigh.

"You're going to see him covered in Mr. Holmes' blood?" Mary questioned with wide-eyes.

"Yeah. He said he wanted to see me as soon as possible." Jane said with a smirk, turning on heel towards Moriarty's study. She wanted to take her time going the twenty yards from Sherlock's door to Moriarty's study. If she could make it a thirty minute walk, she would've, but she didn't want to leave Sherlock's side for long with the state he was in. She paused when she reached the door, sighing heavily as she stared at the expensive oak that separated her from the most annoying man she had ever encountered. 

"Alright, John, you can do this... You're going to march in there and tell that damn ignorant prick that you're not interested." She whispered to herself, taking a deep breath.

It felt strange to refer to herself by that name since she'd been going by Jane for nearly half a year now. She now couldn't say if she prefered the life of Dr. John Watson, or Ms. Jane Watson. On one hand, John's life was over, it had ended the day he marched up to that holly tree and tried to pull the trigger. What more did he have to live for in the future? Jane wasn't treated the greatest but at least she had made friends and none of them treated her like she was broken. Friends. She pondered for a moment whether Sherlock Holmes fell under that category. He had risked his life in an attempt to save her from Moriarty's advances, and somehow she knew that was the most selfless thing he had done in his life. Yes, Sherlock Holmes could be considered a very good friend.

She knocked twice before entering the study, finding Mr. Moriarty standing in front of a bookcase, observing all the titles as if he hadn't read all of the books on the shelves already. He turned to look at Jane, not at all disturbed or perturbed to see Jane covered in Holmes blood.

"Ms. Watson, you're looking as lovely as ever." Jim greeted, smirking at her. "Red is definitely your color."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, but my friend, Ms. Hooper, says that I would look best in a light blue." Jane retorted curtly, holding her ground as he stepped closer. 

"I think you would look ravishing in any color you wear." 

"Right..." Jane held back a sigh. 

"I assume you know the parameters of the duel?"

"You two were dueling for the right to ask my hand in marriage." 

"Obviously your answer is yes."

"No." Jane said flatly. "I chose to marry Mr. Holmes because he asked me to, and I want to."

"Jane, he can't properly defend you. I can affirm that he's a little bit wealthier than I am, but could he really give you what you want?" 

"What makes you think I want anything? I'm certainly not after his money." Jane protested. Jim pressed her up against the door and pinned her there.

"What about what you need, Jane? He certainly can't give you that. He doesn't know the first thing about a woman, or how to pleasure her." He forced his way to her neck and started kissing it roughly.

"Get off of me." she said sternly. Moriarty persisted, pushing rougher against her and grabbing her arse. She let out a yelp and brought her knee up to his groin, pushing him away. "I do believe, Mr. Moriarty, that I said to get off of me." 

With that Jane left the room, rushing out of the house and back to her own home with Molly.

* * *

 

"Ms. Watson, are you in there?" 

"Holmes?" Jane sat up on her bed, rubbing her eyes but not moving to answer the door. "What are you doing here? You should be resting."

"Your voice suggests you've been crying. What's wrong? What happened?"

"Damn your detestably smart brain." Jane grumbled, sighing and getting up to open the door, but not without first grabbing a pillow to hug to her chest.

The first thing that Sherlock observed about Jane's appearance was a series of dark marks covering the right side of her neck. He frowned and looked gazes with her. 

"Moriarty pulled something, didn't he?"

"He didn't get away completely. I'm sure he's still cradling the family jewels." Jane answered, swallowing thickly and fighting off tears. "I've never been sexually harassed before..." 

"I... I would give anything to have made sure that that never happened to you... I know that my apology is worth nothing, but I would still like to offer it..." Sherlock said guiltily, looking down at the floor.

"Thank you, I appreciate that. And I still appreciate you fighting for me." Jane murmured, catching his eye. "It's not your fault that Moriarty is a prick that thinks he owns anything." 

"I suppose the marriage is off then..."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't imagine you'll want anything to do with men at all after this experience."

"Holmes, just because I had a bad experience with Moriarty doesn't mean that I'm not willing to marry you still. I know you don't want to marry a boring woman. And I could really use a relationship with a man that doesn't want me for my body, but for a source of intelligible conversation."

"Ms. Watson... I don't know what to say... I suppose an expression of my gratitude for seeing me as such an honorable man is in order. Thank you. I will try to be worthy of that vision. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I'm all set, Holmes, but I appreciate the offer, just make sure that Moriarty knows to keep his distance, and I'll be set." 

"With your permission, I would like to approach my parents about our marriage."

"Oh. I didn't even consider the fact that you have family."

"Yes. An elder brother and a younger sister as well. However, I don't exactly need their permission on the subject." he joked, hoping to get her to smile at least a little. It worked, at least for a moment.

"Yes, Holmes, do whatever you need to do." Sherlock turned to leave but glanced over his shoulder.

"Ms. Watson, may I ask something in regards to Moriarty?" Jane swallowed thickly. 

"He didn't remove my clothes or defile me, if that's what you're worried about."

"Not at all. I know that you're more than capable of handling yourself, but even if he had, it would not change my stance on our union." 

"Then what is it that you want to know?" Jane's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I wanted to know what you meant by him 'cradling the family jewels' as you put it." Jane blushed and looked sheepish.

"Well... lets just say that he'll think twice before forcing himself on a girl again. My knee may have collided rather forcefully in the juncture between his legs."

"I must say, Ms. Watson, it's so comforting to know that I'm not on your bad side, that being said, I would be very grateful if you would let me know if I stray too close to that boundary."

"I doubt you will. Thanks, Holmes, for doing this for me. And for checking up on me."

"It was the least I could do. You've saved me a total of three times now, I just wish I could've been more reliable for you."

* * *

 

Sherlock knocked tentatively on the door to his parents' room, swallowing thickly as he prepared to introduce them to the idea of him getting married. His mother had been egging him on to get a bride for what felt like an eternity, however he couldn't be sure that she would be happy or even relieved with his choice.

"Mother, father, may I come in? I have something rather urgent I would like to speak with you about." He cleared his throat, hearing his voice an octave higher than usual from his nervousness.

"Of course, darling, come in. What is causing you distress?" his mother replied, smiling brightly as he entered the room. "You haven't been home in over a week, when I heard that you were at Reichenbach Manor with a twisted ankle, it took your father to convince me not to send a carriage to fetch you."

"I'm not distressed." Sherlock protested, pausing an reevaluating himself. "Well, at least, I don't believe myself to be. I'm sorry for causing you so much concern, mother. I'll have you know that I was in very capable hands. Mr. Moriarty has under his staff one of the most skilled surgeons I have ever seen."

"You didn't need a surgeon, did you?!" Mrs. Holmes asked in alarm.

"Viola, dearest, let the man speak. He can't very well explain himself if you don't let him. We all know you worry for him, but he did come with the intention of speaking with us about something he deems important." Mr. Holmes interrupted, looking at his wife with a gleam of amusement in his eye.

"You're right, Carlton. I'm sorry, Sherlock. What is it you wanted to say?"

"Well, I did actually require a surgeon this morning. I lost a duel, I'm ashamed to admit. I am doing well, though. Dr. Watson stitched me up in such a way I have never seen. I'm told that the likelihood of infection is low and that I should recover quickly if I take plenty of time to rest."

"I'll have to thank this Dr. Watson. He sounds like an extraordinarily skilled man of medicine." Viola mused, looking over Sherlock as if trying to piece together where Sherlock had been injured.

"Dr. Watson is very extraordinary, indeed, and, in fact, a woman. She's not a doctor by profession, but I've never seen anyone more skilled at it than she." Sherlock paused only a second or so to see the effect of his words before continuing to avoid another interruption. "She's actually what I wished to talk to you about."

"Sherlock, I'm not sure it would be wise to hire a woman on as a possible family physician."

"That was not my intention. I've asked Dr. Watson for her hand in marriage."

"What? What do her parents think of this?"

"She has no family to speak of, and no fortune as well."

"Are you sure she's not using you as an opportunity to climb to a higher place in society as well as for your wealth?"

"I am. Dr. Watson has been with me through every aspect of my sprained ankle. She showed great courage and compassion when she protected me from a pot of boiling water with her own body. And she is by far the most fascinating woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet. She is reliable, honest, and extremely trustworthy. If you would allow her to be a member of our family, I can promise you that she would only be a blessing to our name and reputation." 

"Does she make you happy?" Carlton asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at his son. Sherlock paused for a moment as he thought. Happy? He hadn't really considered that he might feel anything different from the usual disinterest he showed and felt towards everyone.

"Yes, I believe she does. She doesn't judge me despite seeing my ability to deduce firsthand and she's incredibly supportive. Without her help, I would probably still be in the forest with a sprained ankle, dead or dying." 

"You do understand how hasty a decision you're making this is, don't you?" Viola questioned, concern flooding her eyes.

"I do. However, in my defense, you're the one who has been pressuring me to get married." 

"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind." Sherlock smirked at his mother's response, moving towards her. He knelt in front of her and held her hands in his own.

"I know that you're worried for me, but I can handle myself, mama." he assured, kissing her cheek. "Dr. Watson is not a malicious person."

"Very well, I suppose you have our blessing but if it's not too much trouble, I would like to meet Dr. Watson before the wedding. Speaking of which, when do you intend on getting married?"

"I want us to be married as soon as possible. I had in mind this Sunday."

"Sunday? But it's Friday!"

"Two days is more than enough time to inform a priest, select a dress for her, and I've never been particularly inclined towards floral arrangements. I would like to use grandmama and grandfather's wedding bands if you have no objections. Everyone will already be at the church since it will be Sunday. Is there anything else that concerns you?"

"I... suppose not. Mycroft and Eurus won't be able to attend since they're in London..."

"Mycroft's never been one for weddings anyways. And Eurus will forgive me. Eventually." 

"Alright, alright. Please arrange it so that I can help her shop for her dress."

"I'm sure she would enjoy that. I doubt you could, but please don't try to intimidate her. She had a very trying day today."

"I give you my word, Sherlock, dear. I just want to get to know her better."

"Then I shall inform her. I'll have you both meet here and then you can pick out whatever shop meets your fancy." Sherlock pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead, shook his father's hand and made his way to his room to contemplate the events of the day. 

* * *

Molly smirked at Jane as Mr. Sherlock Holmes left the premises of their humble abode, raising an eyebrow at her quizzically. 

"I'm smart enough to know that despite being in the other room you heard the conversation. The walls here are too thin." Jane sighed softly, crossing her arms. "You have questions, no doubt."

"Well, I know that you talked with  _the_   _Sherlock Holmes_ about marrying him. I know that you kneed Mr. Moriarty in the groin. And I know that Mr. Holmes knows our address." Molly stated matter-of-factly. "Perhaps you would like to fill in the gaps for me, future Mrs. Sherlock Holmes?"

"Oh, well, that..." Jane blushed the brightest shade of red. "Um... Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Yes, we definitely do." Molly muttered, sitting on the sofa and patting the spot next to her. Jane relented, sitting on the sofa and hiding her face behind her hands.

"Well, Mr. Holmes and I agreed to get married as it mutually benefits us both. I'm sure there's nothing else to it. Moriarty... made a move on me today so it was in self-defense..."

"Oh, Janey. I'm so sorry. Are you alright? That's a stupid question." Molly looked at Jane sympathetically, holding her hand and giving it a soothing squeeze.

"I'll be better soon enough. He didn't really do anything... nothing substantial anyways. As for the final question, I'm not sure how he got our address. I certainly never told him. I'll be sure to ask when I see him next."

"It's sure to be soon. I doubt your future husband could stand to be away from you long." Molly teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

"It's not like that." Jane defended, playfully pushing Molly's face away. "You are never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Never, Janey. You've become like a sister to me, and I plan to continue treating you like one, even when you take up Mr. Sherlock Holmes' name." Jane smiled and hugged Molly.

"Thanks for that. You're like a sister to me too, Molly."

"You've had a trying day. Try to get some rest."

"I will, thanks."

* * *

If there was one thing that Jane had not been expecting to see at her doorstep the next day at five in the morning, it was Sherlock Holmes. She blinked a couple times, holding her dressing gown to her frame as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Holmes? Isn't it a little early for this?" she asked, yawning as if to make her point.

"Normally, I'm sure it would be, but as these aren't exactly normal circumstances, no." Sherlock answered, averting his eyes and swallowing thickly.

"I assume you came here for a reason." Jane stated flatly, expression somewhat annoyed. Jane Watson was anything but a morning person. She did mornings fine, usually. But not at five in the goddamn morning.

"I did. My mother wishes to shop for a suitable dress for the wedding with you." 

"Oh? When did you tell her the wedding was, exactly?" Jane asked, raising her eyebrow.

"...Tomorrow..." Sherlock hesitated, not sure how Jane would take his hasty decision.

"What?! Seriously?" Jane's eyes went wide with surprise. She had resigned herself to getting married for survival but she hadn't expected it would be so soon. "Come inside, I need to get dressed, I guess." 

Sherlock obediently followed her inside, trying to look anywhere but at half-decent Jane. He breathed a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her and waited patiently on the other side of it. Within twenty minutes, Jane was stepping back into the sitting room, fully dressed and actually wearing makeup. Molly had insisted.

"Sorry that took so long..." Jane shifted uncomfortably under Sherlock's surprised and awed gaze. Sherlock shook himself from his awe and cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"Not at all. I understand that there are a multitude more steps for you getting dressed than for me." Sherlock assured, guiding Jane out of her house and into the carriage. When they were both settled and on their way, Jane spoke.

"So, a wedding tomorrow. Can we really pull that off?"

"You're concerned that we may not have all of the necessities." Sherlock observed with a smirk. "My grandparents insisted that their wedding bands go to whomever of me and my siblings got married first. Since it will be Sunday, everyone will already be at the church for morning prayers. I have plenty of suitable outfits for the ceremony, so the only thing left is your dress."

"Wow... You've really thought of everything." Jane paused, raising her eyebrow and looking at him with narrowed eyes. "I have a question for you."

"I am an open book, Ms. Watson, any curiosity you have, I am willing to quench. It would be rude not to with how frequently you seem to have taken up a habit of saving me."

"How did you know where I live?"

"Ah. That. Ms. Morstan was kind enough to give me your address."

"Pardon?" 

"When I awoke, Ms. Morstan informed me that you would not be returning to the Reichenbach Manor. I expressed my concern for you and she gave me directions to your abode." 

"I suppose that makes sense."

* * *

The journey was mostly quiet between the two of them after that. Jane found herself surrounded by a large garden in less than an hour and Sherlock informed her that they were on the Bakerfield Park land. And as the carriage pulled to a halt, ten minutes later, Sherlock explained that Bakerfield Park was, in fact, his. Jane marveled at the elegant architecture, unable to comprehend how she had managed to rescue such a wealthy man, not once, but three times.

"You live here?!" Jane asked incredulously, turning to look between Sherlock and the impressive house before her.

"When I am not recovering from both an wrist and ankle sprain, yes." Sherlock joked, amused by Jane's genuine shock to the enormity of his wealth.

"Oh, Sherlock, and Dr. Watson, it's a pleasure to meet you, young lady." A woman, obviously Sherlock's mother came out from the front door and approached them with a bright grin. "I hear that you rescued my boy yesterday. I can't thank you enough."

"Oh, yeah, I did, I suppose. It was no problem at all." Jane murmured, giving a small curtsy as Mrs. Holmes did. Viola turned to her son.

"You didn't tell me she was so beautiful!" Jane blushed bright pink, brushing her bangs out of her face shyly.

"Beauty is a abstract concept, mother." Viola swatted at his good shoulder. 

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, are you saying that your bride to be is not beautiful?" Sherlock rubbed the spot he had been hit.

"I didn't imply that she wasn't..." he mumbled, sighing. "Don't you have some shopping to do or something? Stop hitting and chiding me and go do that." With a giggle, Viola Holmes guided Jane back to the carriage. Jane glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, mouthing 'William?' She was met only by a glare as he closed the carriage door. 

Jane had never seen as many dresses in her entire life as she had when she went shopping with Mrs. Holmes. White wedding dresses weren't exactly in style yet so Jane relied on Viola's expertise for picking a dress. The one they both decided on was light tan in color, embroidered along the edges with light blue forget-me-nots, purple morning glories, and speckled with a little bit of what Viola had called 'baby's breath.' It was lovely with cream colored lace lining every hem. And the best part was that it fit her like a glove. Most of Molly's clothes were tight in some places and loose in others on her, but this felt like it was made for her. 

Mrs. Holmes was completely supportive of Sherlock's choice in life companion, despite her bringing zero advantage to the family, besides the possibility that Sherlock would be slightly less annoyed with her as his bride over any other woman. Viola seemed content with that, and she was. She wanted her son to be the happiest he had the potential to be since her other children insisted on making themselves suffer.

Mycroft was engulfed in government work. It took up an extraordinary amount of his time, leaving him only time for meals, which he had at his office in London, and sleeping, which he only did at his office a third of the week. Often any letter Viola sent in regards to minding his health went ignored. He didn't read them unless they were marked 'urgent' and Viola was smart enough to know that if she marked every letter as such, none of them would be read. News of Sherlock's marriage was sure to be marked under the one that would guarantee his reading, though Viola seemed certain that Mycroft Holmes would express disappointment in Sherlock's decision to marry rather than any sort of happiness for him.

Euros on the other hand was a wild card, as Jane had learned from her future mother in law. Euros had no intention of ever marrying, not that any man with a positive reputation would endeavor to bind her in matrimony. Euros had long since lost her virginity, and with that loss made the discovery that she was infertile. The fact seemed to bother her little, and Viola speculated that it actually gave her the courage and freedom to live however she chose. She would spend a large majority of her time chasing after any man who could be found wearing a red coat and badge. Men in uniform were, apparently, her type. She survived well enough but she never received much money from her parents. Euros was bound to be defensive of her older brother once she learned of his marriage.

Viola and Carlton seemed to be a decent pair of people and Jane felt she had learned a great deal about the both of them during her day preparing for the wedding with Sherlock. Viola attempted to be the best mother she could be with a trio of what she referred to as 'terrifyingly intelligent' children. Carlton rarely spoke during dinner, except to clarify a detail or two, but it was easy to tell that what may have started off as an arranged marriage for Sherlock's parents, was no longer that. They were obviously very in love and it was easiest to tell by the way Carlton would glance at Viola with a tender smile as she talked or how Viola would reach over for his hand occasionally to hold it for as long as she could before it was deemed inappropriate by the current society. Viola spoke a lot about Sherlock and his childhood for Jane's sake. Sherlock spent a majority of the dinner red-faced from embarrassment and fury and his mother for all the anecdotes. 

Sherlock was kind enough to escort her home after dinner, pleading with her to ignore his mother, but honestly Jane felt like she had gotten to learn a new side of him. He often seemed to be incredibly serious as an adult but it was obvious that of all of her children, Viola was closest to Sherlock because he had actually let her in, unlike her other children. While the events of yesterday still haunted her, Jane felt as if she was allowed to relax a little today. Sherlock seemed to be in thought too.

* * *

The wedding was simple, as was the norm for the time. It took place after the morning session of church and it was in attendance by all of the regular church goers, and consequently, all of Jane's friends. Mary was wearing an all knowing smirk for most of the ceremony, sitting next to Molly and occasionally squeeze the brunette's hand to support her. Molly was crying. In the six months that she had come to know Jane, Jane had not only become her friend but the sister she never had. Mr. Lestrade was also present although he was sitting on the other side of the aisle. It appeared he did not have many friends and it caused her to wonder how Sherlock and he had become acquainted at all with how different the both of them seemed to be. The ceremony wasn't too terribly long and Sherlock was incredibly respectful of her space, only touching her to put on the ring and kissing her cheek only once as the ceremony ended. 

Jane took a moment to look at the ring as they rode home from the church. It was a very unique looking setting. One diamond towered over the others in the center, two more sprouted from the right side as if to look like leaves, and on the left side was a row of five square shaped diamonds. It was quite possible that this ring was the most expensive thing she had ever owned. Sherlock hadn't said a word since the ceremony.

That should've been the sign of how the next three months of their marriage would go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exciting news! I've got a website. Why is this exciting? That's a good question, allow me to explain: you can vote! I have, on my website, a survey. This survey contains all of the planned fanfictions I want to write. For those of you who don't know, I write only three open fics at a time (right now I have four because I hate myself). When there is an open space, your vote could mean that the fic you're most excited about will be up next.  
> Here's the link: jeanneriddle.weebly.com  
> I also have a tumblr and on both platforms, I let people know I've updated so please feel free to check out either or both:  
> jeanneriddleq.tumblr.com
> 
> Finally, I'm terribly sorry for not posting this chapter before I went on my ten day hiatus. I had every intention of doing so. I had most of it typed out and my page glitched out before I had a chance to post it, therefor destroying all of my progress right before I had to go out of town.


	7. A Party at Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Want to see more Johnlock Content? Let me know at jeanneriddle.weebly.com  
> You can also know when I update things by following my website, tumblr, or facebook page.  
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> If the fic is feeling a little slow, don't worry, Chapter 8 is when I turn up the heat!

As it turned out, marriage to Sherlock Holmes was actually quite lonely. While, living with Molly gave Jane the constant reminder of company as long as she was home, living in the Holmes Manor left her feeling a constant gnawing absence of any sort of companionship. Sherlock's parents had moved out only three nights after their son's union. The servants barely spoke a word to hear, as if fearing to invoke her wrath by talking to her. And as for Sherlock himself, she felt like she hadn't seen him in weeks. They had separate bedrooms, and he was always away on business of some sort.

Jane realized she had no idea what sort of work the man did. The thought had crossed her mind that he was cheating on her, but he didn't seem the type. And even though they were married, Jane didn't really feel she had a claim on Sherlock in any way. They were friends, well, sort of. One has to see a person regularly to maintain a friendship. So perhaps acquaintances on good terms was more accurate. 

An arranged married, not quite. A marriage with an arrangement. That was more accurate. Jane had honestly never seen herself anywhere near where she ended up in life. Wealth by marriage to a strange man she barely knew, a pair of breasts that were hers (among other things), and living in a time centuries before she was even born.

She had cleared out the library of books to read and now she had nothing to do but read them again, and even that didn't seem very appealing. The vast estate had been fun to explore at first but now it was all familiar. She even had a favorite reading spot in a lovely meadow with blue and purple wildflowers speckled among the grass. 

For the first time since being thrown into the past, her limp had returned and she was careful to make sure the servants didn't see, not sure she wanted Sherlock to know, or what his reaction would be to it in the first place.

After a few weeks of not having Holmes home at all, finally, he returned without notice in what seemed to be a very good mood. Jane had been reading in the parlor, inclined not to go out since it was November, freezing, and she now had the limp back almost constantly. Sherlock paused when he spotted her as she stood from her chair to greet him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Holmes."

"Oh... um... thank you, Dr. Watson." He replied, swallowing thickly and looking a bit too much like a child who had got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The suspicion that he was cheating on her came back full throttle. Dr. Watson? She didn't know what to say. She'd taken his last name and yet he was insisting that separation be in place between them? Jane shook off her shock, determined to at least get something to do around here from this conversation.

"I trust your journey went well?"

"Yes..." Sherlock's mouth dragged the word on, almost making it sound like he was posing a question. He was, in fact, it was just silent. Why are we having small talk? Jane could practically hear it ringing in her ears even though he hadn't spoken more than a single word. Or perhaps the question was 'why are we talking at all?'

"I've been meaning to talk with you for a couple weeks now, but you're never home."

"Been meaning to speak with me? What about?"

"I need something to do." 

"I don't understand." 

"I'm losing my mind, Holmes. I've read half the books in your library twice by now and if I have to read them a third time, you might come home to me throwing them at you." Jane stated matter-of-factly.

"Do you want new books?"

"I'm a fast reader."

"You want something to do?" he repeated her statement from earlier with confusion expressed freely on his face. 

"The servants won't let me help. I am used to doing sutures, not cross-stitch, and it's not proper for noble women to have occupations, I need something to do around here. Anything."

Sherlock stood in a quiet shock for a moment or so before speaking. "Well, I suppose, it is my turn to host the family Christmas party... I'm not very good at parties, nor have I ever understood the appeal of them. If you were to plan it for me in my stead, it might be the first year my party has not been a complete failure..."

"A Christmas party?" It was Jane's turn to be shocked. She wasn't sure why she was so shocked. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she hadn't really thought Christmas was something that people celebrated in this time period.

"If it's not too much trouble, yes. I suppose I should've told you that we are hosting it sooner, but it more often than not slips my mind... which is part of the reason why my parties are usually the worst in the family..."

"If your parties are so bad, why does your family let you host them?"

"My parents are liberal with second chances among family members..." 

"Uh-huh... and how many Christmas parties have you botched?"

"Um... without your help, this will be the third." Sherlock admitted, fiddling with his hands. Jane realized he'd been doing it the entire conversation and had only now noticed. He never really played about with his hands when they spent that first week together. It was a strange thing to pick up on, but it just felt... off.

"Alright. Fine. This Christmas party will be the best your family has ever seen." Jane agreed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. Anything was better than sitting around reading another book she'd already read, again.

Sherlock stayed on the estate for twelve hours, if Jane were generous with her estimation of time. And the fifty-five minutes she added to make herself feel less lonely was definitely generous. Most of those hours he spent in any part of the manor that Jane was not in. The thought occurred to her that he was avoiding her. 

With her frankly depressing reality realized, she set to work planning the party. She was going to go as full Martha Stewart as was possible in the time period, she decided, drawing up lots of different ornament designs and really paying attention to the architecture so she could use every element of the house to compliment the decorations, as well as make the decorations accentuate the beauty of the home.

All of her plans were plotted and she was ready to make the first step. She considered which aspect would probably take the longest and came to the conclusion that if she wanted a lot of baubles she should probably commision a glass-blower first. She decided to go to London for her shopping, knowing her tiny little town of Baskerville could hardly satiate the desires of her Christmas spirit. 

The glass-blower she found, of course, was surprised by the massive quantity of baubles she requested. Jane made sure to soothe him by ensuring if he couldn't completely meet the order, it wouldn't be a problem but she would still appreciate as many ornaments as he could make and that she'd pay handsomely for it. She left the store in a pretty good mood but it was soured almost immediately when she literally ran into Moriarty. He looked genuinely surprised to see her.

"Mrs. Holmes." he greeted, straightening out his jacket and giving a slight bow in greeting. Jane simply nodded her head stiffly. "I hardly expected to see you in London. I haven't seen you about Baskerville so I assumed your husband had you locked up in the Holmes Manor to have all for himself." 

"Moriarty, I believe I made it perfectly clear last time we-"

"My comment was not meant as an advance, merely an observation."

"Alright then... I should be going." 

"Would you like some tea?"

"What?"

"There's a lovely little place down the street that sells tea. Would you like some?"

"You're buying me tea?"

"If you'll accept it."

"Why would you buy me tea?" Jane asked suspiciously.

"To make up for my appalling behavior last we saw each other and to give as genuine an apology as I am capable of." 

"...Fine... I'll humor you just this one, but at the first sign of any trouble from you, I'm running." 

"Duly noted."

Together this uncomfortable pair walked a block and a half to a tea shop. Jane watched her cup the entire time until the lady poured some tea for them and she made sure to keep her cup as far away from him as possible.

"So why are you in London?" Jane asked curiously.

"I could ask the same of you." 

"I'm here doing shopping for a family Christmas party that I'm hosting." 

"I'm settling some of my father's gambling debts." 

"That's surprisingly generous of you."

"He passed away. I'm simply alleviating myself of the responsibilities he left for me to deal with." 

"Oh." Moriarty glanced to his right and sighed heavily. 

"As pleasant as this tea is, I'm going to have to cut this short."

"You never apologized." 

"I will do it when I can be more sincere towards you with it. Right now, business detains me." Jane glanced towards in the direction that had changed Moriarty's mood. A tall blonde man was leaning against a wall in the corner looking comically out of place in the tea shop with his bright red uniform and broad, muscular shoulders. He had a cup of tea poised in his hands and it looked alarmingly small in his grip. Something about this man unsettled her and she simply nodded.

"It was fun while it lasted. Let's not do this again."

"I would repeat the instance but without the added company of that soldier."

"I would not repeat the instance at all."

"Have a safe journey back to Baskerville, Mrs. Holmes."

"And you have a less than fortunate one." and with that Jane left the store, heading in the direction of a dress shop across the street. 

Jane spent as much time as she needed recovering from her interaction with Moriarty, brief and formal as it was by looking over the dozens of dresses that were piled onto the shelves, each unique and patterned differently. Most were sewn in the same style, Jane noticed, the same cut as her wedding dress had been. Jane noticed that Sherlock had been standoffish since their wedding and now assumed that he regretted their union altogether. Jane didn't want to remind him of something he obviously didn't enjoy so she decided to go with something that wasn't reminiscent of that dress. 

With her dress picked out she left London to return to her lonely home. It was late by the time she got home so she simply went to bed. 

In the morning, she had been on the way to the dining room for breakfast when she heard a knock on the door. Being the closest to the door she decided to answer it herself. On the other side she found Mr. Lestrade who looked surprised to see her despite he taking up residence there three months ago.

"Ah, Mrs. Holmes, good morning." he greeted sincerely. Mrs. Holmes. How come everyone saw her as that except for Mr. Holmes?

"Good morning, Mr. Lestrade. What brings you here at this hour?"

"I was wondering if Mr. Holmes was home."

"Nope. He left again two days ago, sorry."

"Ah... Must be on a job..." The urge to find out what that meant welled up inside her but she shoved it back down.

"I don't want to make your trip here for nothing. Could I ask a favor of you?"

"What is it?"

* * *

The day of the party had finally arrived and Jane was fairly excited to find out what everyone would think. Sherlock was still not home, it had been four weeks and she wasn't even sure if he was coming home or if he had forgotten the party entirely as had been the case in the past based on her conversation with him last. Mrs. Hudson had been busy in the kitchen since yesterday preparing them a feast of delicious meals. The entire house was decked out in baubles of various colors and shapes and the tree that she had gotten the assistance of Mr. Lestrade to fetch stood proudly in the foyer, decorated beautifully. She wasn't sure it fit the time period but she couldn't bring herself to care. It felt relatively normal and the colorful decorations made her feel less alone.

She got her dress on with the assistance of the maid, Janine, and looked at herself in the mirror. 

"I clean up well, I think..." she muttered to herself, Janine already in a different part of the house on her duties. Her dress had a square neckline, tight mid-length sleeves and red and white stripes going up and down the base of it, with a lovely red, floor-length peplum that was embroidered with beads in various patterns. Her hair was done up in a braided bun that sat low on her neck and she had put of sprig of holly in her hair to be an accessory for the evening. With most of the family already arrived, she made her way downstairs to greet them, hoping that Sherlock would show up so she didn't have to explain to his family the state of their marriage with no other explanations to give.

Sherlock's parents greeted her excitedly, well, that is to say Viola was excited but Carlton, as was his nature, smiling gently at her from a few steps away as his wife crushed her daughter-in-law's ribs more effectively than her corset. And to Carlton's right was a man and a young lady.

"My beautiful daughter-in-law! Merry Christmas, dear." She exclaimed with a bright grin.

"Hello." Jane greeted nervously. That's what she was afraid of; letting Viola down. "Who is this?"

"Oh, this is Euros, Sherlock's younger sister. And his older brother Mycroft. I had to practically drag him along."

"With all due respect, mother, you did not. I simply came because I haven't had the opportunity to meet Sherlock's bride." A sweet melodic laugh came from Euros and she playfully swatted at her brother's shoulder.

"Oh, Mycroft, you always have been a laugh." She mused amongst her giggles. "Mama had to grab you by the ear and threaten your inheritance. You didn't show any interest until I mentioned Jane. Speaking of which, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, likewise." Jane curtsied graciously. Mycroft was a bright shade of red embarrassment and Euros was looking around the room like an excited puppy.

"Where's Sherlock? It's rude for the host to not greet his family." She mused, looking to Jane for answers. Jane felt nervousness well up inside her. 

"Well, actually... I-" The front door opened.

"I'm right here, Euros. Honestly, you could try to make it less obvious that you came here to see me." Sherlock muttered, handing his gloves, coat, and blue scarf to a nearby servant to reveal a dashing suit underneath, similar to the ones he usually wore. His cravat was trimmed with light green lace and he looked around at his home with awe. He stepped towards his family, moving to stand next to Jane. Jane had thought she'd been relieved to have Sherlock here but as it turned out, his presence made her feel dizzy with nervousness. Whatever he was up to, it was obvious that he had not had any interest in being around her so to have him three feet away felt out of place. "Thank you, everyone, for coming. Merry Christmas. Shall we go to the ballroom and enjoy some music. We have six people here. For once no one will be singled out."

"I will take no part in danc-

"You most certainly will dance with me, Mycroft, or I will have someone collect your toes." Euros interrupted her brother's protests, grabbing his arm and dragging him across the polished floor in the direction of the dance floor. Carlton and Viola looked at each other, shared a small chuckle and followed the two of them. Sherlock didn't follow after them but rather lingered next to Jane a moment."

"Thank you for this." He murmured gently. "Everything looks lovely."

"Um... I don't know how to dance..." 

"I will lead." Sherlock assured, offering his arm to her. "The only one likely to judge you for it will be Mycroft and it's been a while since I watched my mother try to beat him with a shoe. It could prove to be fun." Jane reluctantly took Sherlock's arm and followed as he lead her to the ballroom. His touches were light as he gently guided her into the starting stance. Musicians scrambled in through a side door and started to play.

"I hadn't even thought about musicians..." Jane muttered in slight horror.

"It's perfectly fine. I would be remiss if I didn't contribute somehow." Sherlock explained, chuckling. "By the way, Mr. Lestrade sent me a letter. He mentioned something about you dragging him into the woods to get a pine tree?"

"Oh, the Christmas tree!"

"The what?"

"It's... I don't know how to describe it..." She gestured to the tree decorated in baubles in a corner near the fireplace with her head.

"It's beautiful, but what is it for?"

"It's a place to put gifts."

"...Interesting. You do come up with the most unique things."

"It that good or bad?"

"It's good. I'm never bored when I come home." Sherlock mused.

"Hmm..." 

"What is it?" 

"Well, if it's good... why are you never home..?" Jane asked quietly, looking down at the floor as they danced. Sherlock fumbled a step and ended up closer to Jane as a result, obviously not expecting such a forward question.

"Mostly because of work..." he admitted, stepping back again and blushing slightly.

"Mostly?"

"Well... There is another reason..."

"Is it another woman?"

"Another woman?" Sherlock asked bewildered, nearly stumbling again. "No. Not at all."

"... What do you do for work?"

"Well, it's a little silly..." 

"Silly?"

"...A bit..." he fumbled, cheeks tinged pink.

"Well?"

"I solve crimes..." 

 

"That's rather..."

"Silly?"

"No! I was going to say cool." 

"What does cool mean in this instance?" 

"Wonderful." 

"Hmm... No one has ever said that." 

"Oh... Can I ask you a favor?"

"A favor? What is it?"

"Can I hire on a personal maid that will speak to me?"

"Does yours not?"

"Not really, no..." 

"That's fine... Did you have someone in mind?" 

"Molly Hooper?"

"Who?"

"The lady I used to live with." 

"Oh. I don't see why not, if she has no adversity to it."

"Alright... Thanks." 

* * *

The rest of the evening was simplicity. and went much better than she expected. Sherlock played the perfect gentleman as usual and everybody liked the decorations and simple gifts that Jane had gotten them. Christmas felt weird without the Christmas Crackers she grew up with but she felt a little less lonely than she had. And anything was better than how she had felt about life almost a year ago.

She had asked Mrs. Hudson's advice on what to get everybody since she had been with them the longest out of all of the servants in her house. Jane had been surprised to learn that umbrellas had been a thing in England for almost thirty years and the gift she had been suggested for Mycroft was that. It was nothing like the ones that Jane was used to, this umbrella felt fragile to her. The rods that held it up and together were made of wood and the fabric didn't seem like it would keep the rain out for too terribly long but it had to be better than nothing still. It was black in color and it seemed to be very stoic, something that suited him well. He didn't show much of a reaction at first but Jane could see how his eyes lit up when he discovered his gift.

Carlton's gift also seemed fairly simple. According to Mrs. Hudson he'd misplace his spectacles quite frequently. She got him a lovely chain that would attach to both ends of his glasses and he could wear it as a necklace of sorts. He didn't know what it was at first but once Jane explained a small smile appeared on his face and he immediately put the chain to use, mumbling a quiet but sincere thanks.

Viola was simple enough too, she loved seeing operas with Carlton and he had never complained about it. So Jane gave Viola two tickets to see the newest opera in London. Viola showed her usual dose of excitement, pulling Jane into a hug and telling Sherlock that he had made a good choice in spouse, making Jane and her husband blush and feel a pit of incredible awkwardness. 

Jane gave Euros a book on anatomy and the youngest Holmes spent the remainder of the evening enthralled in it. Dinner was spent with Euros still reading and Mycroft quietly observing to Jane the extent of Sherlock and her relationship, which was laughably poor.

Finally all of the extend Holmes had gone to bed in their guest rooms and Jane was picking up dishes with Mrs. Hudson. The housekeeper only allowed it because Jane gave her the excuse 'It's Christmas.' Sherlock was leaning against the wall in the dining room, eyes following Jane keenly.

"Are you going to continue to watch me for the duration of the time before I retire for the evening, Mr. Holmes?" Jane only asked since she knew Mrs. Hudson would be in the kitchen washing the dishes and she wouldn't intrude.

"I apologize... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable..." Sherlock mumbled shyly, averting his eyes much like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I was only teasing..." Jane felt bad after seeing his reaction. "Did... Did you want to say something? Is that why you were watching me?"

"Actually, I was trying to figure you out, I suppose... But I did want to thank you again."

"It was fun. I had a blast planning it." 

"I don't think they've ever enjoyed such meaningful gifts before... You have a talent." 

"Well, I did ask Mrs. Hudson's advice. It's not like it was done on intuition." 

"It still means a lot to them." Jane stared at him a moment before resuming picking up dishes and going into the kitchen and returning.

"I... got you something too." Sherlock's eyebrows quirked upwards and he stared at her in disbelieve.

"You were convinced I was having an affair and you still got me something?"

"Convinced is a little strong, but, yes... I did." Jane headed out to the ballroom and Sherlock followed behind her curiously. She vanished behind the Christmas Tree for a moment before returning with a long, thin package, handing it to Sherlock and brushing her bangs out of her face awkwardly.

"A violin... How did you..?"

"Mrs. Hudson told me you had an affinity but yours broke a couple years ago and you never got a new one..." 

"..." Sherlock was in a stunned silence for a moment, staring down at the beautiful polished and carved instrument in his hands before finally daring to look at Jane. "Thank you... I'm sorry I didn't get you something..." 

"It's alright. There's always next Christmas, right?"

"Erm... Yes... I suppose there is." 

"Have a good night's rest, Mr. Holmes." 

"You as well, Dr. Watson." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your support. I love your feedback, and I will always appreciate your comments and kudos.


	8. Always Expect the Unexpected with Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this is the chapter that inspired the whole fic, it's also the reason that "inspired my music" is in my tags. This is also the chapter that gives our story its explicit rating. ;) I know that last chapter was pretty dull, at least, I can assume that by how little response I've gotten for it. It was mostly for setting up things in later chapters that I felt needed to be set up now.  
> If any of you want to vote on my survey about which fics come after I eventually finish this one, I have about five more chapters, I think, before this story comes to its end and it may be awhile until I do another Johnlock fic based on current results.  
> jeanneriddle.weebly.com

As expected, Molly's presence in the household staff brought the house to life for Jane. Even in the absence of Christmas decorations, six months later, Jane was always in a good mood when Molly was around. Six months since Christmas, Jane could hardly believe it but she'd been there for a year now. And other than having a frequently absent husband, it had been a wonderful change in her life.

Gregory Lestrade had become a frequent visitor since January though Jane rarely saw anything of him, and she was fairly certain that Sherlock saw him even less. His true design in visiting their home was Molly and it was easy to tell. They'd only converse for ten to fifteen minutes at a time but Molly would always come away from her conversations with Lestrade in a good mood.

Jane still hardly saw Sherlock when he actually managed to be home but she found that he didn't go out of his way to avoid her anymore which made her feel better about the whole situation between them, whatever it was.

Molly had plans for them though, and she made sure to tell Jane about it as soon as there was an option to go through with them.

"A ceili? What's that?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow as Molly dragged her through the market in search for a dress.

"It's a party that Mr. Lestrade is putting on." Molly said excitedly, pulling her into a shop.

"I'm assuming that's why you made me curl my hair today?" Jane asked with raised eyebrows. Molly nodded, grinning brightly at a sky blue dress she found on the shelf.

"This is going to look so good on you. I'm sure it will bright out the color in your eyes!" Molly pushed Jane into the changing closest and began undressing her to try on the dress. 

The dress was indeed lovely, if more revealing than what Jane had become accustomed to wearing. It was off the shoulder, which was mostly why she felt so exposed. The top was embroidered with scrolling in a dark blue color and to separate the bottom from the top aesthetically a thin ribbon wrapped around her waist, tied in a bow with long tails. The skirt was flowy, and when Jane spun around it lifted and began to glide on the air naturally before wrapping around her ankles and falling back into place.

"Wait right here, Jane, I'm going to go pay for this. We've found it, the perfect dress for you."

"Why are you so obsessed with my looks this evening?"

"I'm your lady's maid, I'm supposed to be obsessed with your looks." Molly smirked and Jane felt her face mirror it. 

"True as that may be, you're acting a bit more obsessed than usual."

"Maybe I'm just hoping that you can use this as an opportunity to talk to Mr. Holmes and get him to open up to you."

"Haha. That was such a funny quip I forgot to laugh."

"I'm being serious." Molly stated firmly from the other side of the curtain as she handed the seamstress gold for the dress. 

"One fatal flaw in your master plan, Molly. Mr. Holmes has a distaste for parties of any sort. I planned the Christmas party, if you recall."

"And did you not, at this Christmas party, convince him to hire me on as your lady's maid?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"Would you consider that a form of opening up? Think what you will but you both learned new things about one another at that party."

"...Fine... If this backfires and I die before you, I will embarrass you for the rest of your life in spirit." Jane warned and Molly just chuckled, going behind the curtain again and taking off her outfit to replace it with her own dress she'd picked out. It was a soft yellow with a pink ribbon but far more simple than Jane's dress.

The made for the carriage and spent the trip to Mr. Lestrade's home in amicable conversation, often laughing and giggling like little school girls, but inside, Jane felt disappointment well up inside her. Sherlock disliked social gatherings of any sort, and even if he and Mr. Lestrade were best friends, she very much doubted he'd attend, making Molly's master plan fall into disrepair. Still, she didn't want to offend Mr. Lestrade by having none of the Holmes attend his gathering, and Molly had put so much effort into making her look good, it would be a shame not to enjoy this ceili.

The sight that greeted Jane and Molly was awe inspiring. Mr. Lestrade, by judgement of his estate alone appeared to be better off than Moriarty, and quite possibly Jane's own husband. The lawn was covered in beautiful painted paper lanterns that were already lit and welcoming.

"I had no idea that Mr. Lestrade was this well off..."

"Technically, it's Duke Lestrade but he prefers to be called Mr. Lestrade." Molly murmured with a small shrug, taking Jane's hand and pulling her up the cobblestone path. They followed the lanterns like moths to a flame until they came to a lovely clearing surrounded by thick greenery on all sides. There were tables set up around the edges and lanterns were hung on strands of rope high above their heads. A feast covered every table and in the center of the clearing, people were dancing. A band played off to the side on a temporary wooden stage and those who weren't dancing were in conversation, milling around the tables or watching and enjoying the merriment of this well hosted festivity. 

Most notable was the violinist of the band, a messy head of ebony curls and a face she knew all too well as her husband's. Sherlock Holmes was in attendance and he was busying himself by playing the instrument he'd received from her at Christmas. He played it beautifully, too. Sure, the other instrumentalists were playing as well, but Jane was solely honed in on the way the violin sung under the careful, focused fingertips of a man who continued to surprise her this evening.

"Jane? Jane!" Molly's voice pulled her out of her revery but only when the mousy brunette grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently.

"Hmm? Oh, um, sorry, Molly, I was just taking in the sights. What is it?"

"At the next song we should dance!" Molly suggested enthusiastically. Jane glanced out among the dancers, she'd hired on a dance tutor so that at her next social gathering, she didn't look like a fool, but the dancing that was taking place here, she didn't recognize at all. It was unrefined, free, wild even. Ladies twirled about, skirts floating through the air and men skipped and leapt, uninhibited by normal social convention. The song ended and everyone let out cheers, clapping for the band. Molly took off her shoes and placed them to the side and Jane hesitantly did the same. Three lovely ladies stood at the foot of the stage and Molly tugged Jane along as had been her custom this evening.

"Molly, I'm not sure how to dance like this..." Jane admitted, swallowing thickly. She could feel eyes on her and it made her feel uneasy.

"Just follow my lead, Jane, you'll do fine. It looks like the singers are going to warm up first any how. We'll figure it out together during that." Jane took in a sharp inhale, holding her breath. 

One of the ladies stepped forward and started singing slowly but strongly and Molly took initiative, grabbing handfuls of her skirt and lifting until her ankles were visible. Jane mimicked the action, following Molly's steps as she skipped back and forth in relatively the same spot to the pace of the music, giving a few kicks as she fell naturally into the world of the song. Jane did her best to imitate her friend's steps, as well as her enthusiasm. 

The singer suddenly picked up the pace and then a different girl sang a completely new set of notes, as people clapped to the unspoken rhythm. Molly kept up with the now much faster pace and Jane managed to do the same. The ladies switched off between their two rhythms sounding a lot like they were arguing through their music. Together they harmonized and a simple violin melody droned in the background.

Abruptly they stopped a moment and it left Jane feeling like she were on a steep cliff. The third woman sang finally, her own set of notes and then the other ladies joined in with their notes again. It sounded more like an argument now, but every once in a while the notes would find their way into harmony before shooting back out into a conflicting discord and chaotic but beautiful nature. Once again they stopped but silence didn't follow. Instead, the sound of a violin sprung the song to life and any stragglers on the dancefloor were now fully engaged and Jane had finally managed to find her own groove as the first singer began the first verse of the song.

The other ladies joined in, singing in harmony with one another and guided the song into the pre-chorus. Molly and Jane joined hands and spun around as a chorus in an unfamiliar language left her uplifted yet dizzy. The next verse continued on simply enough as the first, with one minor difference, one of the singers had pulled a pair of spoons out of seemingly nowhere and proceeded to bump them together, causing a beat to rattle out of them.

The chorus continued on and Jane found herself swirling around with Mr. Lestrade this time, who gave a nod and smile in greeting and in an instant, she was back to skipping and kicking around the same spot. Violin sudden picked up and Jane found herself dancing with the most unpleasant of acquaintances, Moriarty.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Moriarty..." Jane said through her teeth, Moriarty just chuckled.

"Hello, Mrs. Holmes, you're looking rather lovely tonight. Could it be you're trying to impress some lonely bachelor?"

"Perhaps you've forgotten that I'm married." Jane growled defensively, eyes narrowing at him. 

"Not happily from what the rumors flying about the village would suggest. is it true that you didn't even share the wedding evening with your husband?" Jane was speechless and incredibly embarrassed by the statement. She was about to retort but the crowd on the dancefloor pulled her to a different part of the clearing and she was suddenly all to aware of the music. She'd been dancing on instinct throughout that whole conversation and she still was.

The violin was playing merrily and had been for... since about when she started talking to Moriarty. Than she remembered who was playing that violin. Her eyes shot towards the stage where she found Sherlock watching her keenly, playing the fiddle in his hands effortlessly, perhaps even mindlessly.

The music changed and so did the tune of the violin, which was now hissing as if Sherlock's very touch were fire and it felt like he were playing the conflict in her very soul, and then as abruptly as it began it stopped and was once again replaced by the melodic voices of the trio of talented ladies. She couldn't take her eyes off her husband though, whose eyes continued to follow her as she danced around the grass.

The violin picked up again and this time, their gazes locked and she felt her heart start pounding. It once again faded out and she twirled slowly as the music slowed and something in her settled in that moment. She couldn't imagine why she'd still gone on that daily pilgrimage to the tree that she'd been whisked to the past near, not when this had become her present. A fire fueled her spirit and she danced with more determination than before and the singings seemed to be displaying that with their voices. She spun around and around, kicked and leapt and skipped and pranced, but her eyes never left Sherlock's and then finally the sound ended and Sherlock hastily jumped off the stage as another violinist moved to take his place for awhile. 

"Dr. Watson." He greeted, offering her a glass of champagne that he'd scooped up for her during his determined trek to her.   


"Mr. Holmes, at the very least, you should call me by my proper surname when we're in public. Everyone else does." Jane murmured, taking the glass and downing half of its contents. 

"Mrs. Holmes... my apologies... I wasn't sure you'd wish me to call you that..." Sherlock looked like a child who had just been scolded and it almost suited him, almost. 

"Why wouldn't I want you to call me that?" Jane asked blankly, blinking at him in disbelief. Sherlock quietly offered his arm and she took it. He guided her down a path and away from the crowd, sitting on a steep hill where a stream flowed meters below. Jane sat next to him and he quietly contemplated whatever it was going on in his mind.

"How are you?" he asked after a moment, looking at her with pure concern, and expression she hadn't really seen on his face since before they had gotten married.

"I'm fine. I'm doing well, actually." Jane answered the surprisingly normal and out of place question. "It's nice to be able to talk to you for once."

"What?" Sherlock looked surprised, he cleared his throat, though in the dim light she could see a hint of a blush. "I wasn't aware that you wanted to talk to me..."

"Is it so unlikely that a woman would wish to converse with her husband?"

"Perhaps under normal circumstances, no, but our marriage has never been broadly defined as normal by anyone." Sherlock murmured quietly, fiddling with the ring on his finger. 

"I thought arranged marriages were common for the time." 

"Wha- Ours is not an arranged marriage, a marriage with an arrangement, yes, but our parents most certainly did not plan this out for us." Sherlock defended, softening after a moment. "I suppose my concern for you arises from you dancing with Moriarty. You seemed... shocked by something."

"Oh, that... apparently our lack of sex is common knowledge around the village and he was kind enough to inform me of that..." Jane murmured bitterly, face a little red. Sherlock's shoulders visibly stiffened and his ears were now very obviously bright red. 

"How? That shouldn't have gotten out..." Sherlock moved to kneel in front of her. "I'm sorry. It's my fault... I should've made sure that the staff understood the parameters of our marriage."

"To be fair, Mr. Holmes, I'm not entirely sure I understand the 'parameters' of our marriage." 

"It's to keep you safe from men like Moriarty." Sherlock murmured blankly. Jane felt her blood boil a bit at that and stood abruptly, turning on heel to head back to the part. Sherlock got up quickly and gently grabbed for her wrist.

"Was that not the right thing to say?" Jane didn't say anything, instead she shook off his grip and continued walking. "I'm sorry, Jane... Forgive me... I don't know what I said that wronged you but I would take it back in an instant. I... marriage is still incredibly new to me. I've never had an instance where I needed to know the right words to say before, and I can see that one of those instances was now..."

Jane paused, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. She glanced over her shoulder to look at him.

"Why is it that you treat me like I'm made of glass?" she wondered out loud and Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed.

"I've been keeping my distance because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? Why would I be uncomfortable, you used to follow me around like a little puppy before we got married."

"Yes, that was before Moriarty- Before he assaulted you..."

"That's what this is about?" Jane giggled and then she broke out into a full on laugh. "Oh, Holmes, believe me when I say I've had much worse than a man try to force himself on me. I was shaken at the time, but I'm over it."

"You're over it? You do continue to astound me, Mrs. Holmes..." Sherlock murmured in a sort of awe. Jane's features softened and she plopped back down on the grass, patting the spot beside her. Sherlock nervously sat, swallowing thickly.

"Was that the only thing you wanted to talk about?" Sherlock looked at Jane with a bewildered expression and then blushed and shook his head. 

"There was something but it's... not appropriate under any circumstance... Not at all something I should expect or even ask of you..."

"If it's about the rumors that I'm on the prowl for an affair, I'm not." Jane answered and Sherlock's face only showed more confusion.

"There are rumors about that?" He shook himself out of his thoughts and cleared his throat. "That wasn't what I was going to ask you..."

"Oh yeah?" Jane hummed softly. "Well, what were you going to ask me?" she wondered aloud, looking at him for the answer.

"I... was wondering... since you're no longer afflicted by last year's incident... if you would mind terribly... um... if we... consummated our marriage..." Sherlock's cheeks were bright red and his words could hardly be heard over the music in the distance. 

"W-What?"

* * *

How Jane had found herself in this predicament, she'd never know. She was sitting on her bed, blushing furiously as she considered the fact that she had actually agreed to have sex with Sherlock Holmes. He was probably on his way home, arriving after her because he had agreed to stay a little after the party per a request that Mr. Lestrade had. 

A gentle knock on the door and then it slowly creaked open just a crack.   


"Um... may I come in?" Sherlock asked shyly, voice a little higher than usual, probably from nervousness. 

"Yeah. Of course." Jane answered, smoothing out the fabric on her lap and sitting up straight. Sherlock slowly entered, closing the door behind him and approaching her. "Nervous much?"

"I suppose it is rather obvious.. isn't it..?" Jane nodded and he sat next to her. "I just... don't want to be a cause for you to think all men are hopeless..."

"Holmes... look at me." Sherlock did as he was told and was greeted, to his surprise, with a gentle kiss. "I'm sure that that won't be the case."

The kiss seemed to ignite something in him because he then took control of it, guiding her to rest on her back. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down her neck, hand slipping under her to undo the numerous buttons that kept her dress in place.

"Are you sure about this, Jane?" he asked quietly and she gave one quiet nod in assurance. He pulled his jacket off and tossed it on the floor, kissing her once more but this time more confidently, Jane kissed back, a little surprised at his change in demeanor. He carefully slipped her overdress off and took in the sight of her. "I meant to tell you earlier... you're beautiful."

"Isn't beauty just an abstract social construct to you?" Jane teased and he gently took her hand in his own, pressing it to his lips.

"You use my own foolish words against me?" Sherlock questioned, smiling tenderly. "It may be an abstract social construct, but it doesn't change the fact that it's how I feel about you. I could hardly take my eyes off of you when you danced, surely you noticed?"  


"Oh, I did... I suppose I'm just stalling..."

"If this is something that you don't want, you need only tell me, Jane..."

"It's not that... You just... seem different tonight and I suppose I'm just trying to figure you out."

"If it's any consolation, I feel different tonight... Is it a good different?"

"Yeah. I think it is." Jane mused, pulling him against her lips again. He kissed back fervently, fingers setting on the quest to unlace her corset. Despite the fact that her corset was getting looser, it felt like it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. She found herself giving in to the sensations Holmes was pouring over her generously.

Once he had her completely undressed, he simply looked at her with awe subtly shimmering in his eyes. Sherlock shook himself out of his trance and started removing the rest of his clothes, laying by her side and kissing her tenderly. Tentatively, his fingers found their way between her legs and he very gently pressed on inside her. Jane's breath hitched as she got used to the unfamiliar sensation, it wasn't unpleasant, not at all, just... new.

She forced herself to ignore the nervousness welling up inside her and relaxed, letting out a pleased hum when Sherlock added another finger.

"How is it?" Sherlock asked quietly and Jane's eyes fluttered open to meet his. 

"It's a little odd, to be honest, but I think I like it." Jane admitted and Sherlock's shoulders relaxed a bit. He kissed her tenderly, starting to move his fingers in and out of her slowly causing a pleased hum to leave her again. 

Soon he grew more confident and the noises he elicited from her were moans, rather than simple hums. He shifted until he was settled between her legs and slowly pressed inside of her. The pleasant sensation through them both off guard but not nearly as much as the moan that left Sherlock as he buried himself in her warmth.

What had been most surprising was that instead of some random sound, Sherlock had elected to moan her name. Their fingers laced together and she held tightly to his hands before giving them a gentle and encouraging squeeze.

"Jane..."

"Shh, shh, Sherlock... It's alright..." She cooed and he relaxed against her, holding her close to him. 

"You feel incredible..." he whispered, lips just barely grazing hers. 

"Perhaps I should get you like this more often, you give more compliments." Jane teased and he let out a little chuckle, kissing her forehead. 

"From now on, should I prove to be too frugal with my compliments towards you, let me know. I'd rather be made aware of how foolish I'm being rather than continuing to be an ignorant fool." Sherlock moved his hips and it caused them both to let out quiet moans. Slowly but surely, he worked himself into a normal pace, encouraged more when Jane's fingers found their way into his thick curls. 

"Jane, I'm..."

"Me too, Sherlock." She assured, letting out a rather lewd moan as he shifted angles slightly. Sherlock's pace grew faster and Jane clung to him as he continued to strike something deep inside her. 

He kissed her passionately, pouring his seed inside her and still thrusting through his own orgasm as Jane continued to moan his name quietly in his ear. They held onto each other as waves of pleasure washed over them and their vision blurred in and out of focus.

He kissed her tenderly as his mind continued to dizzy him with sensations of pleasure and she pliantly returned the kiss, letting out a content sigh. Exhaustion from the party as well as their latest activities hit them hard and Jane let out a quiet yawn. 

"Jane?" Sherlock asked, slowly pulling out of her and laying by her side.

"Mmm... yes, Sherlock?" 

"Would you mind terribly if I stayed with you tonight?"

"Wouldn't be the first time you and I shared a bed, husband." Sherlock buried his face in a nearby pillow, Jane assumed it was to hide his blush. She playfully ruffled his hair before relaxing back into the mattress and drifting off to sleep.


	9. Marital Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back~ Sorry for the delay in chapters, I had a busy September and October and while my November and December are looking to be pretty busy as well, but I hope to have this story finished before February, in a perfect world. I've started setting due dates for myself so hopefully I'll be more on track with updating. By the way, I apologize for the Moffat like cliffhanger I'm about to torture you all with, it's just the way I envision this story continuing.

The first sight that Jane woke up to was a snoozing Sherlock cuddled against her with one arm affectionately draped over her middle. A little over a year ago, she would've been incredibly startled to be in this position with any man, and yet, she couldn't be more content. She gently caressed his rather messy set of curls and he let out a quiet groan, snuggling ever closer to her.

"Good morning, Holmes..." Sherlock suddenly sat up stiffly, looking at her like a child who had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Jane... Erm... Um..." Jane couldn't help but chuckle at his awkward antics. 

"Sherlock, you can relax." she promised, but Sherlock's shoulders only relaxed slightly. "You're acting like you're not allowed in my bed."

"So I am?"

"Well, I did tell you that you had my permission to stay here last night." Jane chuckled, sitting up and gently nudging his shoulder with her own. 

"J-Jane... Your breasts..."

"You're so shy, it's cute." she giggled, climbing out of bed and fetching a nightstand from her dresser, but not before bending over to show off her arse. Sherlock's face was bright red. "I'm not sure you're allowed to be this shy after being so commondeering last night, Holmes." 

"What I did last night?" He asked but it was obvious that Jane didn't have to answer that question when Sherlock grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it.

"Having regrets?" Jane asked seriously, trying to disguise the hurt in her voice but it was too early in the morning for her to be much good at it. Sherlock's face shot up from the pillow and a soft expression.

"No... That's not it at all." Sherlock defended, standing and taking Jane's hands in his own. "I guess... I was just expecting you to feel differently in the morning... like you'd regret it and shoo me out or something..."

"That's how you see me?" she questioned, tone not sounding any lighter.

"No, it's that I see myself as undesirable." Sherlock admitted, kneeling on the ground and giving her hands a little squeeze. Jane's expression softed and she knelt down on the floor too, cupping his cheek and gently forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"Most ladies I've ever talked to all think you're very handsome." Jane murmured, rubbing her thumb over his sharp cheekbone.

"A handsome face doesn't guarantee an amiable personality. Most people who speak to me, don't find me as appealing afterwards." Sherlock admitted, sighing softly. "Excluding Mr. Lestrade and my family."

"Sherlock, you're forgetting the most important thing about me..." Jane softly cooed, leaning in until her lips were just brushing against his. "Being your wife means that I am your family too." 

Sherlock seemed to melt with that statement, tears actually falling down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Jane's waist and held her close to him. 

"Jane..." He whimpered her name quietly, starting to kiss her tenderly.

* * *

Molly of course was smirking when she spotted a still slightly disheveled Jane in a nightgown with various pieces of her last night's ensemble strewn about the floor, as well as Sherlock's waistcoat and vest.

"I'd say something changed between you both last night." she said knowingly, starting to pick up and neatly fold the clothes as if acknowledging the presence of the articles cut off any chance of Jane denying anything.

"Can we not talk about this?" Jane asked, blushing brightly and grabbing her bloomers and putting them on quickly.

"Just this once because I'm in such a great mood myself." Molly agreed, setting the clothes in the laundry basket. Jane raised an eyebrow.

"Now that I look at you, you are practically glowing, Molly." she with a smirk. "Did something happen with you last night?"

"Oh, yes. The most wonderful of things!" Molly burst into an almost blinding smile, grabbing Jane's hands and giving them an excited squeeze. "I am engaged!"

"Engaged? To whom?" Jane asked, rather surprised. 

"Mr. Lestrade! He asked me last night after the party had mostly died down. And I couldn't help it, I just said yes!" 

"Is a Duke allowed to marry out of his status?" Jane asked seriously, not wanting to be the voice of reason, but knowing that someone had to be in this case.

"Normally it would pose quite the issue, but since Mr. Lestrade inherited his title from his wife, may she rest in peace, he isn't bound by the rules of royalty. It's mostly out of respect that he has the title and land that he keeps, but he does such a good job running our little village that he's able to keep his title and everything that comes with it."

Jane nodded as she processed it all. "So because he was not born into the royal family, he can marry who he wants. How long has he been a widow?"

"Nearly ten years now. It started out a happy marriage from what I understand but she treated him poorly once she was with child... Or so the rumors say..." 

"She died in childbirth, then?" Jane inferred, raising an eyebrow as she learned more about the man she had come to see at her door so frequently.

"Yes, but the child miraculously survived. Her name is Amelia and she's just the sweetest little thing!" Molly exclaimed, spinning around with a grin.

"I wasn't aware that Mr. Lestrade had a child." Jane frowned.

"She doesn't get to leave the manor very often, she's always been easily sick."

"That's awful. I can't imagine being so sickly that she can't even live like a normal child." Jane admitted, frown only growing.

"It's rather sad... but she seems to like me, which is all that I could want from becoming her mother."

"I am kind of envious...I wonder what it's like to be a mother..."

"Don't worry about it, Jane. I'm sure you'll know soon enough." Molly had a mischievous smirk on her face and Jane blushed and threw a pillow at her friend.

"Probably not. I very much doubt that I have the ability to have children with him..." She whispered sadly, wrapping her arms around herself. Molly saw Jane's expression and hugged her best friend.

"Oh, Jane... I'm sure that's not true. Why would God have made such a handsome couple come together if they couldn't fill this empty house with very beautiful children?" Jane just gave a forced smile.

* * *

Molly and Mr. Lestrade's wedding had been beautiful. The leaves were just starting to turn yellow, leaving them to look like they were gilded, and Molly's dress was a lovely lilac color that suited her well. It was Jane and Sherlock's first time meeting Amelia and though she didn't smile much, it was somehow easy to see that she was happy for her father and excited at the prospect of finally having a mother. The party lasted well through the night; Amelia turned in early, naturally, and Molly chose to put her to bed on her own volition before returning to their celebration. 

It had been nearly two months since the night that Sherlock and Jane had first had sex, and though it had become a surprisingly regular thing Jane couldn't find a single complaint in the matter. She had practically moved into Sherlock's room now and while he would often leave the house during the day, it seemed he couldn't stay away for long because he was always home sometime before, during, or after dinner. Reignited were the happy hobbies of reading together, and Sherlock would always try to share at least one meal a day with her. The world simply felt brighter... Even Moriarty seemed to have a spring in his step....

"Molly and Mr. Lestrade's wedding made our own feel kind of stuffy in comparison." Jane mused while reading a book in bed next to her husband the following morning. 

"And yet you don't sound incredibly jealous." Sherlock countered, glancing over his pages to look at her with a smirk. A smirk appeared on Jane's lips as well. 

"Their wedding was just so... them. And while ours was not an accurate depiction of either of us, it doesn't make it any less special." she admitted, glancing over her shoulder to look at him. She had been laying on her stomach with her book laid out on the covers at the foot of the bed while he leaned against the headboard on a pile of pillows. At her comment, he set his own book down on the bedside table, shifting to climb out from under the blankets.

"I couldn't agree more, Mrs. Holmes." he said softly, straddling her legs and gently grabbing her arse. Jane let out a little gasp of surprise but attempted to bury her attention into her book. "Trying to ignore me?"

"Not at all, just trying to determine how determined you are."

"Very well, you may continue reading until you find something more fascinating." Sherlock gave an amused chuckle. Jane turned the page as if to egg him on. A fiery glint appeared in Sherlock's eyes, though Jane could not see it as she focused on her book. She felt his weight come off her legs and she smirked.

"Giving up before you've even begun?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She felt him gently cradle her leg and reposition her so her legs were very much spread enough for him to nest comfortably between them.

"I don't recall admitting defeat." he mused, fingertips ghosting her folds. Jane tried to hide the excited shiver of anticipation that went up her spine but Sherlock was far to enthralled with her (and observant) to miss it.

"My mistake." She said in the most even tone she could manage, though she could hardly put focus towards the novel she'd been reading. it became ten times harder when she felt his warm breath just inches away from her already excited pussy. "Are you doing what I think you're about do?"

"You have a lewder mind than I thought." Sherlock answered, smirking and sounding very, very smug about how her voice had raised half an octave even though he had barely started with her. He pressed a reverent kiss to her folds and Jane quietly shuddered, more than unable to even focus on the book she was holding.

His tongue darted out of his mouth and started trailing her slit slowly, like he was putting every detail to memory. 

The way Sherlock treated her was always so astounding to her. She had sex plenty of times when she when she was a man, perhaps it was because they had all been flings. John had been with a man before; giving it the old college try, but it had been one of the worst sexual experiences of his life. That partner had no consideration for how John felt about bottoming on his first time with a man and had barely cared enough to lube him up before shoving his cock inside him.

Sherlock Holmes was very, very different from that man. Sherlock always gave her the opportunity to back down, though it had become a more subtle thing in the last two months, and Sherlock would get his answer from how cheeky Jane's responses were and he was sure she did it to encourage him. There was another thing that Sherlock did that was vastly different from any other partner Jane had ever had: he always made it feel like he was worshiping her. He had never once said 'I love you' and yet it was incredibly easy for Jane to believe that he did, and Sherlock was definitely a romantic, more so than Jane had been.

Sherlock's tongue delved inside her and Jane was completely pulled out of her thoughts and back to the new sensations Sherlock was lavishing her in. She had already given up on reading anymore and had set the book to the side, hips naturally lifting on their own and pressing back against Sherlock's lips. She could practically feel him smirking against her, one of his arms gently wrapping around her legs as if he needed to touch more of her. 

He carefully maneuvered her onto her back, lips trailing upwards, planting kisses all over her body. He always seemed to pause at the scar, but it wasn't that he was uncomfortable with the distorted tissue, that concern had been demolished weeks ago the moment he pressed one of his reverent kisses to it. It always amazed her how he could make the part of her body that she hated the most feel like it was just another beautiful feature on her.

"It's nearly been one year since I found out about this scar." Sherlock murmured, lips brushing against it with almost every word. He was of course referring to when Jane had jumped in front of a boiling pot of water for him. "I've tried my best to ignore my desire to know its story, but I can't help but be curious how you got it..."

"I thought you were skilled at reading people. I've seen your ability to do so first hand." Jane mused, combing her fingers through his curls.

"You're the exception... Everything I think I notice about you, everything I try to understand, it seems to contradict itself. It's both thrilling and utterly confusing..." Sherlock's arms wrapped around her waist and he hugged her. 

"Someday... I'll be a little more honest with you..." Jane said this incredibly quietly, cradling his head against her chest. "But I'm kind of terrified of how your view of me will change when you know the truth... that it will be the end between us..."

"Jane..." Sherlock carefully lifted himself to look her in the eye with an incredibly determined look. "That could never be the case."

Jane didn't know what to say, she wanted to believe him but the truth was so incredibly ludacris, she very much doubted that it wouldn't push him away. After all, what man would actually believe and accept that his wife was born nearly two hundred years after him as a man who did very well in medical school, played rugby, and then went into the army as a doctor and a Captain, only to be shot at? To say that it was a lot to take in, would be the understatement of the millenia and chances of her getting thrown into an asylum? Too high to be comfortable.

She closed her eyes and kissed him tenderly and of course he melted into the kiss. He knew that whatever her past, it wasn't something she was ready to share with him yet, no matter how much he wanted to know.

Sherlock started worshiping her breasts with his mouth but he could tell that she was preoccupied now. He paused, pressing their foreheads together and looking at her with a expression.

"I don't need to know. Of course I'm curious and of course I want to know more about you, Jane. I may not be a patient man by reputation but I could wait for you to tell me until we're old and gray and our bodies are covered in strange warts and wrinkles. And even if you're still not ready to tell me then, I wouldn't mind."

"Wow..."

"That speechless?"

"Well, yeah... no one's ever said anything remotely like that to me before." One of his fingers delved inside her and he smirked when she let out a soft moan.

"I'll have to remember to say things like this to you more often. You're so... what I can only describe as wet down there."

"Are you saying that you only say these things to get me excited?" Jane asked, one arm draped over her eyes as she tried to hide her blush.

"Not at all, I mean every word, but you can't blame me for enjoying the reaction they give me." Sherlock mused, licking and gently nipping at the skin on her neck as he added a second finger inside her and started thrusting them.

"Mmm... I want you inside me..." Jane moaned almost shyly, fingers finding their natural place in the curls at the nape of Sherlock's neck.

"Your wish is my command..." he murmured, guiding his cock to her folds and slowly pressing inside her, guiding her legs to rest over his shoulders.

"Sh-Sherlock!" she could only manage to say his name. They had been fairly predictable for the time period with their sex so far; missionary only. Hell, him eating her out had been a pleasant surprise, but her legs being draped over his shoulders brought on a new angle that made him deeper than usual. 

"Jane..." he softly moaned, kissing her passionately as he started to form a rhythm with his hips. Jane was immediately lost in all the sensations of her husband, kissing him back with a desire to be enveloped by him.

It didn't take long before they were both quietly moaning each other's names into one another's ears and soon she was tightening around him as they both sped towards the brink of orgasm.

With cries of they came together and Sherlock gently let her legs down, not pulling out of her yet. 

"Did you have any plans for Saturday?" Sherlock asked softly into her ear, holding her close to him.

"N-no... I didn't... Why?" Jane panted softly, fingers gently massaging Sherlock's scalp.

"Good. Don't make any, you're spending the day with me." It was always a surprise to see him tell her to do something, rather than asking her, but then again, she was the only person he actually asked the opinion of from what she knew. She didn't mind, she couldn't imagine a better way to spend any Saturday.

"Alright. Alright. I will." She agreed with a giddy giggle, kissing his forehead. "Don't you have things to do today?"

"Oh. The Huntington Case..." Sherlock carefully pulled out of her, pressing a kiss to her forehead in return as he started to throw clothes on and comb his hair. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Yeah. Sure." Jane chuckled, watching him get ready with amusement and she started to make herself appropriate for her new lady's maid to help her dress (Molly obviously couldn't be her lady's maid anymore since she was now a Duchess by marriage). "Will you be home in time for dinner?"

"I can never stay away from you for long." Sherlock answered, lifting her hand to his lips before heading out of the room and out the door.

* * *

"Jane... Jane... wake up!" It was Sherlock. Jane groaned, opening her eyes to find the room still flooded with darkness. It was Saturday, but the sun probably had at least an hour or two before it was going to rise. She curled back up into the pillow, burying herself under the covers. "Come on, Jane. You agreed to spend the day with me. I have something special prepared."

"What time is it?" came Jane's pillow-muffled response. 

"It's just after four in the morning." The response he got was another groan. "I suppose I could find another lady to accompany me. Perhaps Ms. Morstan? Oh, or maybe little Ms. Lestrade would be intrigued enough."

"What do you have planned?"

"It's a surprise."

"Why do I need to get up this early?"

"Because time waits for no man or woman." He gently rubbed her back. "Perhaps Mrs. Hudson would go with me instead. She's been my nanny since I was just a boy. She certainly qualifies as a special lady."

"So funny I forgot to laugh." Jane grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and letting out a small yawn. Sherlock smiled softly, digging a straw spill out from the bedside table and poking the dim embers in the fireplace until the tip caught fire before lighting the candles by the bed. "You're dressed."

"Yes, and you need to be since we're going out." Sherlock chuckled, grabbing her usual undergarments and helping her put them on while she adjusted to being awake this early.

"Are you even qualified to put clothes on a lady?"

"I've taken them off of you plenty of times." Sherlock whispered in her ear playfully, causing her to blush. "I'd have to be a fool to not have some understanding of the complexity of your clothes by now."

He carefully started lacing her corset, tying it when he was finished and going to their wardrobe to pick out a dress for her.

"This is quite possibly the loosest my corset has ever been." Jane mused with a chuckle and Sherlock shot her a playful glare at her tease. She reached behind her, pulling the strings taught and retying it. "You seem to be in a very good mood today."

"I am." Sherlock agreed, picking a sunshine yellow dress with little blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the sleeves, cuffs, collar, and skirt. He put it on her carefully before gently braiding and tying her hair back. "Shall we?"

"How do you plan on seeing in the dark?"

"I happen to know the route like the back of my hand." Sherlock defended with a chuckle, taking her hand in his own and helping her down the stairs to the front door.

"I am intrigued to know what has you so excited." she admitted, following him out into the early hours of the morning. She could hardly see, yet her eyes had somehow become accustomed to that. It was actually rather moist out, but not from rain, but heavy fog. The moon seemed to have a blue tinge to it tonight but she could hardly see it. Instead she focused solely on where Sherlock was guiding her, stepping where he stepped.

"We've been walking for almost an hour..." Jane groaned quietly, yawning as if to prove her point. "Wherever you were planning on taking me, I think we're lost."

"Actually, we're almost here." Sherlock said chipperly and Jane glanced at him in disbelief. 

"Really?"

"Yes." 

They had just been hiking a hill and although Jane could see better now that night was nearly over and the set about to rise she wasn't quite sure where they were.

"I take it you don't remember this place?" Sherlock asked, thumb gently rubbing her rather cold hands.

"I know this tree." Jane admitted, glancing around at their surroundings.

"This is the exact spot that I met you, Jane. One year after doing so."

"Sherlock..." Jane was touched by his sentiment, he was now kneeling among the leaves, pressing little kisses of pure adoration to her fingers.

"Jane, you have become the most important person in my life since then. I never used to care what anyone thought of me, and I still particularly don't, but you are the exception. Your smile has become the staple of my day, your laugh, my greatest desire... your voice, my source of inspiration, and your touch has become something so important to me that I feel like I'm suffocating if I'm apart from you for too long." His thumb brushed against her wedding band and a gentle, reminiscent smile appeared on his lips. "I was so sure that stories of love and romance had it wrong, that it was a trick of the mind or perhaps just how infatuation worked at first, that those things wouldn't last, but I was wrong. This is so much more than infatuation, I've known you were different from the very first moment that I saw you and to call it infatuation would be an insult to what I feel for you... Jane, nine days from now, is our wedding anniversary and yet, I cannot think of a better time than now to tell you how I feel..." The sun started peeking over the treetops, making the fog glow gold. "Jane Holmes, with all that I am I love you, ardently." 

* * *

Jane had meant to reply but it had been to last. There was no sign of Sherlock anywhere and the golden blue light that had surrounded her before did no longer, instead it was a gray day with clouds overhead. She looked down to find that her dress no longer fit her.

Jane was John again... and nothing made her heart hurt more. 

 


	10. The Loneliness of the Twenty-First Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, just wanted to let you know that it's going to be a while until I post another Sherlock fic after I finish this one. But you can change that. Everyone here has the ability to go on my website and peruse the collection of fanfictions I currently have planned and vote on which ones you want to see come to life next. I hope to become more organized by February and I'm very pleased to say that if I stick to my updating schedule, I'll have Time and Tribulations finished by then too.

John spun around frantically, eyes taking in the bleak overcast and the fallen leaves, and how different the forest looked. Anguish crossed his features and he fell to his knees.

"No! No, no no, no! Sherlock!" He let out anxious cries that he knew the man would not hear. That had been centuries ago. Sherlock Holmes was long gone from this spot and John's misery grew at this fact.

There would be no more sitting across from one other in armchairs, reading together in a content silence. No more kisses lined with so much searing passion they made John dizzy. No more of that bliss John felt when Sherlock slid inside him and caused him to see stars with each considerate and calculated thrust. 

And what of his friends? There would be no more Mr. Lestrade, no more Molly, nor Ms. Morstan. He felt tears start to wash down his face, speeding down every line and curve of a face that was his own but not the one he'd come to know as a part of him. 

He heard a twig crack under weight to his right and hope welled up inside him for a moment but it was immediately washed away by an unfamiliar face in a ranger uniform.

"Hey, are you alright?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow. He had an American accent and by no fault of his own, his face was not the one John wanted to see. The ranger studied him for a moment. "Hey, you look familiar... Oh, you're John Watson!"

"Missing posters?" John asked absently and the ranger nodded. "How long have I been missing?"

"I think it's been close to eighteen months. Let's get you back to town and I'll call your sister!" The ranger suggested and John followed quietly, bitterly. "I know you haven't been hiding in these woods for the last year and a half, so where have you been?"

"Not sure." John lied. It was better that no one knew his adventure, after all who would believe him?

The ranger continued to talk and ask him questions but John kept his answers to a maximum of seven words, not willing to share his experiences with the man. They arrived at the Ranger Office and the man went into the back and gave John some cloths. John went into the small restroom and changed. Staring at his reflection made reality sink in, but the only thing that comforted him was the fact that he had been missing and it wasn't all a dream. The tattered remains of his dress assured that. He stepped out of the bathroom, feeling utterly depressed and out of place. And he was definitely having an identity crisis.

"I've called your sister. We should head to the nearest hospital." 

"I'm fine. I'm not malnourished or dehydrated. I haven't contracted any unsavory diseases. I'm just a little disoriented..." John growled, sitting by a window and staring out at it blankly.

"I'm only trying to help you, Mr. Watson."

"It's Doctor... Watson..." Even his last name felt foreign on his tongue. Hell, his voice sounded wrong, felt wrong. 

"Doctor Watson, my apologies."

"I'd like to stay here and wait for my sister." John stated but there was hardly any enthusiasm behind it. Of course, he missed Harry but the cost of seeing her again didn't seem worth the tradeoff. In this time, he was John Watson, a poor ex-army doctor with zero friends and no future. In Sherlock's time, he was so much more. He was a wife, a friend, and living a much more lavish life than he was now. The present wasn't desirable, neither was a future without Sherlock. "Can I ask a really weird question?"

"How weird?"

"Not terribly. Just... when's the next blue moon?" The ranger shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't really keep up with that stuff. Sounds like you've heard that silly local legend." 

"I don't know about silly. Just... I believe that everything in myth is based off of some sort of truth." The ranger snorted.

"Next you're gonna tell me that fairies abducted you." He joked but John's expression remained even as he continued to stare at passing cars.

"Just an observation that not everything you see is as it seems." he said grimly, pinching his hand in a last ditch effort to wake from a Sherlock-less nightmare.

"What happened to you?" the ranger asked, raising an eyebrow. John was quiet a moment, and the ranger thought he wasn't going to talk so it came as a surprise when he heard John's voice.

"The best year of my life..." 

"If it was the best year of your life, why were you found wearing a tattered dress and crying like someone shot your granny?" John's eyes found their way to the ranger's name tag with narrowed unamusement. 

"Listen, Ranger Dimmock, I don't expect you to understand, especially with how much I've left out, but suffice it to say, I fell in love and I couldn't tell him how I felt in time... Now he might never know... But my only shot is a blue moon."

"You need to get your head checked..."

"I promise I'm fine."

* * *

It felt like it took Harry an eternity to get him and it made sense since London wasn't exactly close. Six and a half torturous hours later, Harry was rushing in and pulling her brother into a fierce hug which he eventually returned.

"John. Where have you been?" John couldn't help but wince at his own name. He glanced at Ranger Dimmock and patted Harry's shoulder.

"You know... around..." he played it casually and Harry smacked his arm with a glare.

"Don't play this off casually! You were missing for ages! You left your mobile in your flat!"

"Can we talk about how shit of a brother I am in the car?" John asked, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Fine. But this conversation is far from over." Harry narrowed her eyes before turning to look at the ranger. "Is there anything I need to sign?"

He nodded and John resumed staring out the window while she did paper work. She gently touched his shoulder when she was done but John hardly noticed, standing and following her out the door without so much as a goodbye to the ranger. He was quiet in the car for the first hour of the drive until Harry insisted that he explain everything.

"I don't know what you're expecting to hear from me, Harry."

"I don't know, maybe where you've been this whole time, and why Ranger Dimmock said he discovered you in a ripped dress in the forest crying like a little girl." John gave a very, very heavy sigh, shifting to turn to the window he'd been staring out of.

"Maybe I am a little girl." he grumbled bitterly.

"I know for a fact that's not true and I have the pictures of baby John and Harry taking a bubble bath together to prove it." Harry retorted, eliciting another sigh from him. "Though, if you were a little girl, I think it's safe to say you've moved on to your angst-riddled teenage years. Come on, John, what's going on with you?"

"I need time to process everything."

"You can't hold off an explanation forever, you know?"

"I'm aware."

* * *

It had been a month. Harry had insisted that John get a therapist but he wouldn't really talk about his feelings or anything with the professional. Mostly John poured himself into research onto blue moons and fog. Fog wasn't terribly uncommon in the town he'd spent the last eighteen months of his life in. But it was a little daunting to imagine how much luck he'd have to have in order to get both a blue moon and a foggy morning on the same day.

Mostly, he was determined to be optimistic. He needed to believe that one day, he'd return to Sherlock and let him know that his feelings were returned whole-heartedly. 

"John." He still winced at his name, an ever constant reminder that he wasn't home, not when his heart belonged to Sherlock.

"Yes, Harry?" 

"How can I help you become you again?" 

"That's a complicated question with a lot of complicated answers." 

"Ben and Jerry's, chocolate dipped strawberries, what?"

"What if it's... strange?"

"If it makes you you again, I don't mind strange." Harry murmured, hugging him from behind as he sat at the dining room table.

"You stopped drinking. Why?"

"Does this have to do with helping you?"

"Not really. Just curiosity, mostly. You didn't even stop when Clara asked."

"You going missing... It made me take things more seriously. At first I was drinking more than usual, but after a while, I realized that me getting pissed every night wasn't going to help bring you back." 

"Jane." 

"I'm sorry?" Harry's brows furrowed.

"You wanted to know what would help."

"You want a girlfriend named... Jane?" John raised his eyebrows and bopped her in the forehead gently. 

"No, I do not want a girlfriend."

"So a boyfriend named Jane? That's gonna be tricky..."

"No. I don't want a boyfriend either."

"What have you done with my brother?" She teased and he rolled his eyes.

"What can I say, I'm monogamous now." John murmured, thumb running across the wedding band that now hung around his neck.

"To Jane?"

"No. That's me... I'm Jane..." he murmured quietly. 

"You're Jane?" Harry asked in disbelief, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him. 

"Yeah... That's been my name for the past year and a half..." John murmured, clenching a fist and trying to fight tears.

"So what happened? You were abducted by some sort of weird underground organization that dresses men in dresses and gives them feminine names?"

"I think I would be much happier to be out of that situation if that were the case." John sighed, taking a swig of a beer that Harry had left him fifteen minutes ago.

"I suppose that's true. But can you blame me for my guesses, you've not given me much to go on." John was quiet, considering his sister a moment.

"We'll take it slow, okay? Just Jane right now. Nothing more complicated than that."

"Okay, Joh-" She saw him start to flinch again and paused "... Jane." Harry wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. "Does that make you my sister now?"

"Shut it."

Months had passed, too many and the pain of missing Sherlock never dimmed, and Harry could tell that whatever he'd endured, it had changed him a lot. John rarely showered, opting instead to maintain twenty-first century hygiene by bathing... Which was admittedly unfortunate for Harry because the flat only had one bathroom. But boundaries diminished a little bit after Harry had to seriously pee one time and John let her in while he continued his bath. 

It had been a couple weeks since that first time and a shocking occurrence had happened. Harry noticed that John was a little more open with her when he was relaxing in the bathtub. It started with a simple comment about how calm he was, to which he replied something about being used to some sort of assistance in the tub in the time he'd been missing. 

Harry had been making hot chocolate and she knocked on the bathroom door before entering.

"Hey, Jane." It had felt weird at first to refer to her brother by this name, but whatever hesitations she had vanished when she noticed that he'd stopped flinching, and seemed a little more comfortable in his own skin. He'd been right when he said that it would help him.

"Harry, hello." John greeted goodnaturedly, shaking his head as if he'd been deep in thought. "Need to use the loo?"

"Actually, I was gonna see if you wanted hot chocolate, since I made some." She pointed at the steamy mug in her hand and John smiled before nodding.

"Is this a scheme to get me to open up?" he said, but there was no venom in his voice, instead there was just some sort of contentment lining in it.

"Maybe a little?...You seem to be in a good mood today."

"Well, it is Christmas." John stated, taking the mug and then a careful sip before setting it on a shelf in the tub. 

"You never were excited about Christmas before. You always hated it. Dad was always the biggest prick around this time of year." Harry pointed out, sitting on the floor next to John.

"Well... I've changed a lot. Christmas is actually melancholy for me right now... but I have some good memories from last year... And remembering them... it's helping me stay in a better mood..."

"Which is why your eyes are filled with loneliness, right?" She teased but she looked saddened. John bit his lip.

"I do appreciate you, Harry." he murmured, looking up at the ceiling.

"What kind of sister would I be if I let you live in those cruddy army veteran flats?" she smirked.

"A bad one." John retorted and she stuck her hand in the water and splashed him, causing him to chuckle.

"Your hair is super long." She observed, combing her fingers through it as if to prove her point.

"Pfft. This is nothing. I'm used to it being at the small of my back... It being this short makes me feel off..."

"It seems like everything that I used to think was a defining thing for you makes you feel off." Harry mused sadly, biting her lip. "Are you sure you're alright? I thought that therapist would help you."

"I can't talk about what happened with her. I know you want me to get better, but it's not as simple as that." John cupped her cheek, smiling softly at his sister.

"You can't or you won't?"

"Depends on if you'd rather see me in a loony bin or not." John sighed, taking another sip of his cocoa. Harry took a sip of her own, considering his words a moment.

"Would you talk to me about it? It seems like you've been holding back because you think no one will believe you." John looked down at the bubbles in the water with lonely eyes.

"I suppose I might as well tell you... I wouldn't be fair to keep you in the dark forever... Especially since I plan on trying to go back in a little less than two years."

"What? Back where?"

"There's no guarantee that I'll go back to where I want to be... when I want to be... but I have to try. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering what might've been..." 

"You're confusing me again, Jane." Harry sighed softly, looking into his eyes.

"Well... the night I disappeared... I had planned to kill myself that next morning..." John said hesitantly and Harry looked concerned. "Life was... it was different after I got shot. Old friends... I know they didn't mean to, but they treated me like I was broken... You did too. Like I was so fragile if you said the wrong thing, I'd shatter... And I missed the action of Afghanistan, helping people with severe afflictions...I forgot how to be a civilian and I didn't see anyway of going back..."

"Oh, Jane... I had no idea you felt that way... I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault... Anyways... it's kind of obvious by the fact that I'm here, that I couldn't do it... But the place that I had chosen... Something about that place... it's hard to explain... but it's like magic... One moment it was late autumn... the next it was early spring... My surroundings weren't the only thing that had changed. I had changed... It's going to sound ridiculous... but I was a woman. Breasts, vagina, the whole nine yards."

"Jo-Jane... You do know that sounds..."

"Yeah. I know. But I don't have an explanation... I just was. I lived eighteen months in the regency era... and it was honestly one of the best years of my life..." John explained, biting his lip. "I made a lot of friends and none of them ever made me feel weak. And I met a man... I married him and I completely fell for him."

"I thought you said you'd never shag another man again." Harry mused with a smirk, remembering his drunken complaints from uni. 

"Well, to be fair... shagging men is a lot more enjoyable when the man is considerate. The natural lubrication doesn't hurt either."

"I can't believe I'm having this talk with you. Shut up." Harry giggled and John actually joined in for a moment. After a moment there was silence and Harry looked down at the mug in her lap. "Did this mysterious man you married have a name?"

"Sherlock... Sherlock Holmes." John said, affection coating his tone as his thumb traced the band around his neck.

"That's... unique?" 

"When you found me... when I came back... it started as the best day of my life and then it was the worst..."

"I don't understand how a day can be simultaneously the worst and best day of your life." 

"He told me he loved me, Harry... For the first time, he said it and everything just felt so right..." John was crying again, wiping the tears from his cheeks with a shaky breath.

"But?"

"But before I could tell him that I loved him too... I was back in the present... And now there's two centuries between me and that moment and I don't know if I'll ever seen him again..." 

Harry didn't know what to think. Yes, it was an unbelievable story but there was just so much honesty in John's eyes. Whether it had actually happened or not, John believed it did.

"You said you were going to try to go back?"

"There's a pattern between both times that I 'time traveled'... Blue moon, foggy night, just at sunrise. If I stand next to that tree again... I am sure I'll at least have a shot at going back.

"And the next blue moon is...?" 

"Twenty months from now."

"Wow. That's... You're going to leave again?"

'I know it's not fair to you... but I need Sherlock in my life. Everything reminds me of him and I just can't stand the idea of knowing that I had the chance to return to him, but never doing it. I love him."

"I know. It's just going to be weird without you. You ever gonna come back?"

"I don't think I'll ever risk not seeing him again... That tree I'll avoid it if I ever make it back to Sherlock..." 

"Well, I've never seen you so convicted about anything. That Sherlock must be a special guy." John nodded in agreement.

"The bath water's getting cold. I'm going to go to bed."

* * *

It was finally that day. The day before the blue moon and John could hardly wait. He took the trip early and spent the day in town, making sure he had everything he needed. He was determined, this time to give Sherlock the whole truth about him, and hope that it wouldn't be something that Sherlock had minded. He had a bag and inside was a dress he'd sewn himself to dress in once he was back, his mobile which he'd pulled the battery to make it survive longer, and a few pictures of him growing up and going into the army.

He hardly slept at all, heading to the spot at staying there. But he couldn't stay awake forever and long before the sun rose, he'd fallen asleep. 

When he woke up, everything looked younger and John sprung to his feet in eager excitement, looking around. There was no sign of Sherlock but he was hopeful anyway.

In desperate need of assurance, he looked down to find that he was once again Jane and the fact caused her to spin around and yelp with glee.

"I'm back!" quickly she got out of her twenty-first century clothes and into the dress she had made. It was a soft blue, plain dress with white ribbons, which she had brought some for her hair, as well. 

With her bag wrapped hanging on her shoulder, she made her way to the place she wanted most to be.

The estate looked the same and it made her heart swell with hope. Slowly, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. It was a moment before she heard a familiar voice: Mrs. Hudson. 

"Hello?" the lady greeted as she opened the door but her face froze with shock as she stared at the unexpected guest.

"M...M...M..." Jane's expression fell for a moment as Mrs. Hudson couldn't seem to get out any words, staring out in her direction but not at her.

Mrs. Hudson was having a stroke.

 

 

 


	11. An Unexpected Pair of Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm incredibly late posting this chapter, I'm so sorry. I've been trying to get caught up as well as seriously proofread some of my old works and I've learned that proofreading actually takes more time than writing things, so starting March, I'll probably throw in a day just for proofreading. Without further ado, the chapter you've been waiting for!

Jane sprung into action, her medical instincts kicking in. The first thing she needed to do was get Mrs. Hudson laying on her side and comfortable. 

"Sherlock!" she called into the house, reassuringly squeezing Mrs. Hudson's hand. It took only a few seconds before Sherlock appeared from the parlor, a rather surprised expression on his face when he saw her.

"Jane..." He blinked, digging his nails into his other fist as if to assure himself this wasn't a dream.

"Mrs. Hudson is having a stroke," Jane informed sternly. "Help me carry her to a sofa. She needs to lay down."

Sherlock nodded dutifully, his eyes filling with worry. He carefully picked Mrs. Hudson up and took her to the parlor, resting her on the sofa. 

"What are you doing here?" he questioned but Jane knew she had to help Mrs. Hudson quickly. There would be time to answer his questions later.

"Not now, Sherlock. I need some tea with rosemary. I know it's odd, but it will help her." she ordered and he narrowed his eyes before rushing to the kitchen.

Jane soothed Mrs. Hudson as she waited for Sherlock to return with the tea. Once the tea was in hand, Jane carefully helped Mrs. Hudson drink, letting her breathe in the aroma as well. Sherlock sat in an armchair in the corner, watching her curiously. 

Mrs. Hudson seemed to be improving a little, gaining more control of her abilities to move her eyes at the very least.

"Hey, Mrs. Hudson, can I ask you to repeat me?" she cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of the old woman's face. "It's time for tea?"

"It's time for tea." Mrs. Hudson repeated, testing out the words like they were foreign.

"That's a good sign. No slurs." Jane assured, smiling softly. "I recommend you lay here for a while. At least until we're sure all the symptoms are passed."

Mrs. Hudson nodded, relaxing on the sofa. Jane turned to look at Sherlock with a nervous expression.

"So how long have I been gone?"

"How long?" Sherlock questioned, disbelieving. "It's been two years." 

"Mr. Holmes, I hope you don't mind me stopping by today- Oh, I wasn't aware that you had company." a woman in a beautiful green dress walked into the parlor, looking between the three of them.

"Ms. Adler, this is Doctor Watson." Sherlock introduced, standing stiffly. "Doctor Watson, this is my fiancee, Ms. Irene Alder."

Jane's heart stopped a moment as she looked between the two of them. Fiancee. She supposed it made sense. Sherlock's wife had been missing for two years. She put on a forced smile. 

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Adler." she offered her hand to shake. "You're a very fortunate woman, indeed."

"The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Watson. I don't believe I've ever heard of a woman becoming a doctor. Surely, you must be more fortunate than I." Ms. Adler reasoned. "Are you here on business?"

"Yes." Jane lied, knowing she had no place here now. "Mrs. Hudson was behaving bizarrely and Mr. Holmes sent for me." 

Sherlock seemed to be relieved by the assistance Jane was providing him with, his shoulders relaxing.

"And your diagnosis, Doctor?" Ms. Adler questioned, looking at Mrs. Hudson.

"It was a blockage in the brain. Assuming I got to her quick enough and she drinks enough rosemary tea, she should be alright. But if she has any side effects that you notice, Mr. Holmes, I would appreciate you telling me."

"Of course, Doctor Watson." Sherlock agreed, nodding. "Anything else?"

"Yes, make sure she gets rosemary tea before bed and once she wakes up. Twice a day should suffice. I'll return in a fortnight to make sure she's well." 

And with that, Jane left the room, quickly exiting the house and once she was a good distance away, she crouched down by the side of the road and cried hard. Her accidental trip back to the future had cost her the man of her dreams. She didn't know what to do or where to go. 

Molly and Lestrade would certainly have room, but they'd also probably side with Sherlock since he was Lestrade's friend and Jane was the one who disappeared for two years. Ms. Morstan wasn't an option either since she lived with her parents still. 

She wasn't sure how she'd survive but she was determined to. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the lovely, Mrs. Holmes." Jane tensed, looking up. It was Moriarty.

"I'm not sure Mr. Holmes would agree with that assessment," Jane admitted, rubbing the tears from her eyes. 

"Ah, you must've met the future Mrs. Holmes." Moriarty realized, offering her a handkerchief. 

"If you've come to gloat, you can go on your way," she growled, taking the cloth and wiping her face dry. 

"Well, I was just strolling but if you'd like I can offer you something other than the condolences you'll receive from everyone you meet." he mused, smirking.

"No. Whatever it is, no."

"Not even if it's a place to stay until you can convince your dear husband to take you back?" Moriarty questioned, looking at her expectantly.

"After what happened the last time I was in your house you think I'll trust you?"

"I don't see you getting any other options. And if it helps, I'm... committed, now. You'll get no trouble from me."

"You got married while I was away?" Jane asked in disbelief.

"Married, no. But I do have someone who means a great deal to me." Moriarty answered, shrugging. "And I do have a guest house on my estate. By my honor, your honor would be safe."

"And why would you help me?" she questioned, eyes narrowing as she tried to read his intentions.

 ~~~~"To be honest, Mr. Holmes is incredibly boring when you're not in his life."

"What makes you think he wants me in his life? He's got a fiancee, I'm certainly not going to ruin that for him." Jane stated flatly.

"I think you underestimate how much he cares for you." Moriarty countered, nudging her to get her walking. "Dear Sherlock nearly drank himself to death, he was so broken up about your disappearance. He's back to never attending parties and he buries himself in his work."

"I'm not following. What does this have to do with you?"

"Well, I do care about him. I've always admired the way he's a man ahead of his time. I realize we don't get along, but I can respect what he's capable of. But he's capable of so much more when he's with you. Besides, he opened up with you. Ms. Adler is only going to make him more recluse. I don't know why you disappeared, but I'm glad you're not dead, Holmes."

"Still going to call me Holmes?" Jane questioned, a bit surprised. 

"Of course. You may have been gone for two years, but you're still Sherlock's wife. All we need to do is remind him of that."

"What's your plan?"

"Well, I am going to be hosting a party. I'll convince Sherlock to attend and then you can attempt to woo him with your feminine wiles. It would also be an ideal time to make a comeback into society."

"What do you get out of it?"

"Please, Jane, it's not like I'm going to hunch my shoulders and demand your firstborn." Moriarty chuckled, shaking his head. "Can't it just be a gift?"

"You don't give gifts." Jane narrowed her eyes.

"Alright, then a favor for the way I acted when you were last in my house?" she paused, watching him carefully.

"That would be unlike you."

"Are we not all capable of change? I have no ill-intentions. I swear. I just want to help."

With a nervous breath, Jane thought through the offer and nodded.

"Alright. But you better not betray my trust."

"Indeed. Let's get you back into your husband's arms."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


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